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THE SEA CAPTAIN 
H. C. BAILEY 







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^THE 

SEA CAPTAIN 


BY J 

H. C. BAILEY 

AUTHOR OF “THE LONELY QUEEN" ETC. 



HODDER & STOUGHTON 
NEW YORK 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 

C<rj^Z 




Copyright, 1913 

By George H. Doran Company . 



, .j M • 

€'C1.A854663^ 








CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Silly Shepherd 

II Black Magic 

III Captain Doricot 37 

IV Floating the Venture 50 

V The Alderman’s Daughter 64 

VI The Alderman’s Voyage . . 78 

VII Doricot’s Quest pi 

VIII The Woman in the Veil 98 

IX Aboard the Galley 106 

X The Open Boat 118 

XI Matt Winkfield . 126 

XII Doricot Receives Enlightenment 139 

XIII Out of Prison 148 

XIV The Retreat 152 

XV Gold Velvet 156 

XVI My Lord’s Plot 165 

XVII The Clean Dagger 177 

XVIII Up Channel 184 

XIX Into Calais 194 

XX The Queen Sails 200 

XXI The Man on the Carrack 210 

XXII Barbarossa 222 

XXIII The Great Raid 228 

XXIV The Girl in the Boat 236 

XXV The Etiquette of the Profession 244 

XXVI Don Diego is Blind to his Blessings 255 

XXVII Passengers 261 

XXVIII The Gold Ship 270 

XXIX The London Road 287 

XXX Betv^en the Sheets 296 

XXXI The Ambassador’s Daughter 301 

XXXII Captain Rymingtowne Goes to Court 308 

XXXIII The Best of Three 315 

XXXIV Captain Ryminqtqwne Gobs to School 330 



THE SEA CAPTAIN 



f 

I 



THE SEA CAPTAIN 


CHAPTER I 

SILLY SHEPHERD 

There is a portrait of him. The Elizabethan artist, as 
usual, makes him without complexion and very respectable. 
But I do not believe in that. He is a lean lumbering weight 
of a man. His brow would be too big for his head if he 
had not such a mass of jaw. Under the shade of the brow 
there is a stabbing grey glint of uncommon eyes. There 
he sits with hands prosperously folded, prosperously ordi- 
nary in his white ruff and black velvet and gold chain. 
There’s his wife, sedate in the placid beauty of her St. 
Martin’s summer, tender and gentle and pure. But — but 
she has a smile. I protest he was not respectable. Hear 
how he began. 

He earned, I suppose, by the year, two angels — say a 
pound — with all the mutton and beer he could swallow, 
with grey frieze enough to keep him warm in no stockings, 
with a mat of rushes and a log by the kitchen fire to make 
him bed and pillow when he slept indoors. He was a Berk- 
shire shepherd when Mary, who burnt the heretics, was 
Queen. He had no name but Dick, like his father the 
swineherd before him. The maids called him “ silly shep- 
herd ” because they found him a heavy lout and dull. 

People who like the luscious, people who want the grand 
style, I have heard them call it a hulking country. The 
piasses of the downs are blunt and bluff, often like a hog’s 

9 


10 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


back, often like a ploughman’s shoulders and sometimes 
they have no sharper colour. They can give you large 
prospects in a quiet harmony, which to some folks breathes 
of peace. But to me their spirit seems combatant. From 
the sarsen stones in the vale where the men who were be- 
fore history worshipped life and death, past the turfed 
ramparts of the bronze swords and the barrows of Saxon 
and Dane, to the wind battered beeches on the summit line, 
the bold scarps rise proclaiming stubborn strength and en- 
durance. 

Close upon Assynton village the downs stand bluff and 
grey. The murmur and light of a swift stream are about 
its church, and there only the rolling acres of bare land 
allow a press of trees. From the old manor house — 
what’s left of it now is a barn — Mistress Mary Ryming- 
towne was pleased to come and walk there. 

She was a child of fifteen, but girls were swiftly women 
in her day. From her bearing you might have guessed her 
father emperor of the world, not merely lord of a decent 
Berkshire manor. Her face was ivory pale and thin. She 
was tall and of a long-limbed grace. She had about her 
a rare delicacy, as of a creature aloof from all things ugly 
or unclean. So you see her coming, a daintily haughty 
child, straight and slight in her silver blue dress. 

She heard heavy steps, and turned to look. The silly 
shepherd, loose-limbed and bent, was shambling after her. 
His heavy face gave no sign of sense. His head rolled 
to and fro. On a sudden she checked and stood still and 
drew aside, waiting for him to pass. But Dick, the shep- 
herd, stopped too and lounged against a tree, and plucked 
grass and began to chew it. After a moment she turned 
to look for him, and saw him so at his ease, staring. With 
her broad brow puckered she swept down upon him: 

“ What art doing, sirrah ? ” 

He spat out his grass carefully. He put a big finger 
to his forehead. 


SILLY SHEPHERD 


II 


‘‘ Nought, nought,” he drawled, and began to scratch 
his shoulder against the tree; but he did not remove the 
steady, curious stare of his dull grey eyes. 

“ I do not desire to have you gape at me,” she cried. 

Whereat he did gape. With the fall of the big jaw, he 
was all stupid surprise. 

She exclaimed at him. She swept past him and back 
the way she had come. Then the shepherd gathered him- 
self together and slouched after her. As he watched the 
quick, lithe body his shadowed eyes were fierce. 

A speculative person who had seen it might have guessed 
the absurd reason why he prowled often about Mary 
Rymingtowne. But when people were there to see there 
was nothing to be seen in the silly shepherd. 

The child heard his heavy steps again, and hated the 
instinct that bade her be afraid, and hurried on. So they 
came at speed towards the church, the dainty child with a 
heavy lout shambling fast on her track. 

It was an ugly sight. It startled the pious features of 
a black-gowned priest coming from his prayers, and he 
stood still to watch. You are introduced to the child’s 
cousin, the rector of the parish, called after the respectful 
fashion of the time, Sir Ralph Rymingtowne. He was 
large and plump, and vivacious eyes made his smug, full 
face look like a mask. As the child came up, she slackened 
speed, crying breathless: 

‘‘ Good morrow. Sir Ralph ! ” 

He turned to walk with her. 

“You are in a heat, Mary.” 

“ I hate that shepherd,” she panted. “ I will have him 
whipped — only my father will never whip any one.” 

“ Your father’s gentleness should be an example to us 
all,” said the priest demurely. “ What has the shepherd 
done ? ” 

“ He — he — he prowls,” she exploded. “ He is always 
about me. And I hate his wooden face.” 


12 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Pho, child, the poor lad means no ill ! Tis the purest 
simpleton. But I will school him.’' Sir Ralph turned and 
hailed. ‘‘ Diccon lad ! Away with you ! Hie you back 
to the farm.” 

The shepherd stared and stood still and put up a fore- 
finger. 

“ I will give you company home, Mary. But I do not 
like to see you thus timid. Diccon is meek as a lamb.” 

She tossed her head. A red spot burnt on her cheek. 
Sir Ralph paced placidly beside her, talking smooth mo- 
rality. She broke into the midst of it with a cry: 

‘‘ I knew ! Oh, he is a masterless rogue ! ” 

She turned and pointed. The shepherd was shambling 
close behind them still. 

Sir Ralph frowned. 

“ The poor lad hath but half his wits,” he explained, and 
called out : “ Come hither, sirrah.” The silly shepherd 

slouched up and stood limp and bent, staring. “ Sirrah, 1 
bade thee away.” 

“ I thought as you was a-wanting to speak to me,” the 
shepherd drawled. 

Sir Ralph burst out laughing at so fatuous an answer. 

Faith, the fellow is all but idiot,” he confided to Mary. 
Then, ‘‘ Look thee, Diccon, if I wanted speech with thee I 
should not drive thee off. So ! ” 

The heavy face was twisted into a cunning smile. 

Eh, but there’s reasons,” the shepherd nodded and 
winked. “ We knows each other for sure.” 

“Oh, oh! I leave you to your friend. Sir Ralph!” the 
child cried fiercely and sped away. 

Sir Ralph gave the shepherd a glance like a blow, and 
turned and called after her. She did not stop. He turned 
back angrily with a growl: 

“ Hast no wit at all in thy chuckle head? ” 

The shepherd giggled stupidly. 

“ If I had, you’d have no use for me, master,” 


SILLY SHEPHERD 


13 


Sir Ralph frowned at him a moment ; then, with a mutter 
of “ Follow,” led the way towards a dark copse. On the 
way he talked over his shoulder: 

Why must you show Mistress Mary you are my man ? ” 

“ Bless me, why not now ? ” the shepherd cried They 
faced each other in the shade of the hazels. “ And, be- 
sides, I thought you was a-making up to her, and she as 
sweet as you please. Might ha' been a-courting, you 
might.” 

“ Go to, fool ! I am a priest.” 

The shepherd giggled again. 

‘‘ So you be, for sure. And can't have never a wife. 
That's a pity, too, that is.” 

Sir Ralph demanded truculently what he meant, and 
could get nothing out of him but a stupid leer. Sir Ralph 
reviled him for a grinning jackass. 

The shepherd scratched his head. 

‘‘ Mother Meg Blackavice said as you had some 'ut to 
say. Be that all of it ? ” 

Sir Ralph controlled himself. 

“ Have you forgot what I said to you a month since, 
Diccon? ” 

“ Oh dear, oh dear, that I ha' not ! ” the shepherd cried. 
‘‘ Why, you was to give me five gold pound when Squire 
Gabriel dies and you be lord of the manor.” 

Sir Ralph came nearer. 

“Well, Dick, well?” 

“ Well, I hope a will die soon, to be sure,” the shepherd 
giggled. 

Sir Ralph laid his hand on the heavy shoulder. 

“ Diccon lad, why is he not dead ? When he walks alone 
on the down by night, star-gazing, is there no chalk-pit that 
would break his neck, or no dew pond where he could 
drown ? ” 

The shepherd gaped and stared, and then: 

“There — there!” he quavered, “I was afeared you 


14 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

meant me to stick un/' and all his big frame began to shiver 
and shake. 

‘‘Why, what has given you the palsy?’' 

“ Oh, but he’s a ready man is Squire Gabriel, and a man 
of his hands, and a soldier man he was. And he is a con- 
jurer, too, and a hath devils and sprites.” 

“ Therefore is he the enemy of every Christian man,” 
said Sir Ralph piously. The shepherd crossed himself in 
a hurry and stood gaping. “ Look you, Diccon. They 
tell me he goes up o’ nights to the old windmill, to the 
chamber he hath made himself there, to work his magic 
and conjure with the stars.” 

“ And so a doth,” the shepherd cried. “ I ha’ seen him 
catching star magic in a pipe.” 

“ Why, then, from the manor to the down he must cross 
the Kennet by the plank bridge. What’s easier for a bold 
fellow who would be rich than to shift the mid planks o’ 
some dark night ? ” 

The shepherd drew back. His heavy face was con- 
torted with coarse cunning. 

“ You’m minded to do such. Sir Ralph? ” he asked. 

“ I see a way for a bold fellow that I know to come by 
five pounds. And there might be a crown or two in hand 
for him beside,” the priest smiled genially. “ And if he 
were careful to put back the planks — after — why, no 
man were ever the wiser.” 

The shepherd grinned and held out his hand. 

Like that, if I have made anything of the masses of 
queer papers at Assynton Towers, Dick the shepherd be- 
gan the profitable business of his life. They digress to 
a large description of Assynton Manor and Gabriel Rym- 
ingtowne, its lord. For the first, what matters to us is 
that it could be inherited only by males. Therefore, on 
Gabriel Rymingtowne’s death it must pass not to his daugh- 
ter Mary, but to his cousin the priest. You can sympa-. 


SILLY SHEPHERD 


15 


thise now with the anxieties of Sir Ralph. You will see 
the reason why Gabriel Rymingtowne did not love him. 
Mr. Gabriel Rymingtowne, as I read the Assynton papers^ 
hated no man, finding every one too comical. He had 
soldiered in Italy and brought back a very complete under- 
standing of the ways of the world and a liking for as- 
trology, alchemy, and Greek. Therefore he built for him- 
self a library and laboratory in the old manor house, and 
made an observatory out of the haunted windmill on the 
crest of the down. 

It was as late as ten o’clock on the May night, and Assyn- 
ton village had been long abed. There was no moon, but 
the stars were bright in a clear dark sky. From the gar- 
dens of the manor house Mr. Gabriel Rymingtowne came 
crossing the home meadow to the river. He was slight 
and erect, light of foot for a man whose beard was white. 
He crossed the plank bridge and took the upward path. 
When he was out of sight i;ound the shoulder of the down 
the shepherd came from the hazel copse. For a little 
while he was on the middle of the bridge, on hands and 
knees, looming in the dark like a huge uncouth beast. A 
gap yawned over the swift eddying water, there was a dull 
clatter of wood, and the planks were set to yield to the 
first step. He rose and tried them with his foot, then 
turned and followed Mr. Rymingtowne. And now, for all 
his clumsy bulk, he moved very quickly and without a 
sound. 

Flat on his stomach on the close turf of the down, he 
looked up at the windmill. The sails of it were gone, and 
it stood a bare tower. Mr. Rymingtowne had put a flat 
roof on it, and there he sat, a cloaked, shapeless figure in 
the dark, his telescope pointed at the red gleam of Mars. 
The shepherd plucked a sprig of thyme to chew, and com- 
posed himself for waiting. 

Midnight had sounded from the church in the valley be- 
fore Mr. Rymingtowne came back to earth and went home- 


i6 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


ward. The shepherd lay still and waited a while before 
he followed. As they went down the steep path the shep- 
herd's clumsy feet sent a flint bouncing on ahead. Mr. 
Rymingtowne turned and cried out: 

“ Who goes there ? ” 

The shepherd jumped aside, fell on hands and knees, and 
tried to hide among the little juniper bushes. He made 
much noise. He was very heavily visible. He obtruded 
himself upon the senses, improbable and monstrous. 

Mr. Rymingtowne was interested, attracted and came 
placidly up the hill again. The amorphous beast in the 
bushes revealed a comprehensive outline. Mr. Ryming- 
towne delivered a kick where it was invited. A ridiculous 
grunt repaid him. The shepherd staggered to his feet, 
rubbing the damaged part. “ It's a pleasure to see you, 
sir,” said Mr. Rymingtowne. But why should I ? ” 

The shepherd, with one hand guarding his rear, with the 
other pulling his forelock, retired backwards. 

‘‘ Be a-looking for a strayed ewe,” he muttered. 

‘‘ Do they nest in the junipers? ” said Mr. Rymingtowne 
pleasantly. “ Sir, am I like a ewe ? ” 

“ No, if it please God,” the shepherd said humbly. “ Be- 
ing as you've a beard.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne took him by the shoulder, and as he 
wriggled away took him by the ear. 

“ Diccon, my friend, you are magnificently a fool. And 
is it possible that you think I am? Do me the honour to 
walk with me.” By the ear he led the shepherd on, and 
rebuked a whine of pain with : ‘‘ Hush, hush ! I know 

that you yearn for my company. In fact, Diccon, you are 
but too interested in me and my family. My daughter,” 
he took a firmer grip of the ear — my daughter complains 
that you prowl after her. Now, I resent that.” 

‘‘ I never done her no harm,” the shepherd whined. 

“ My friend ” — Mr. Rymingtowne's voice was more 
genial than ever — “if you did, there would be one shep- 


SILLY SHEPHERD 


17 


herd the less in Assynton. “ He twisted the ear and took 
the shepherd down the hill faster. But you puzzle me, 
and I do not like it. First, you prowl after her, and then 
you prowl after me. Why?” 

‘‘ You ha’ been a-talking to Sir Ralph, now,” the shep- 
herd complained. 

Mr. Rymingtowne was naturally surprised. 

Sir Ralph ? Why, what’s my good cousin to do with 
this ? ” 

“ A said I was idiot. A said it before Mistress Mary,” 
the shepherd complained. And, if I be a fool, why I 
would not have it spoke of neither.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. 

At last I find a modest man. But why did he call thee 
idiot, Diccon?” 

The shepherd gave a queer, grumbling snigger. 

‘‘ Being as I was more a fool than he needed, belike — 
or not so much. What’s a fool to be sure? ’Tis a fox 
that goes to ground.” 

He muttered to himself and edged away. They were 
down upon level ground and drew near the bridge. 

Mr. Rymingtowne went on laughing. 

‘‘ Why, sir, you philosophise. But I think you do not 
explain why you prowl.” 

The shepherd jerked himself free, crying: 

‘‘ No, no ! I will not go over the bridge.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne, with an Italian exclamation, 
snatched his ear again: 

Sir, you are a very treasury of mysteries. And why, 
so please your worship, will you not go over the bridge ? ” 

‘‘ I’m a poor Christian,” the shepherd whined, and 
crossed himself. 

‘‘ I believe you a very poor Christian,” Mr. Ryming- 
towne agreed, and peered at his face through the gloom. 
‘‘ Do you think the bridge leads to — heaven ? ” 

The shepherd began to shiver. 


i8 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


No, no, no,” his teeth chattered. ‘‘ You’m a con- 
jurer, and I will not 'go over the bridge.” 

“ Sir, you deceive yourself,” said Mr. Rymingtowne 
sternly, and took him firmly by the ear and hauled him on 
to the planks. ‘‘It is very likely that you deceive me. 
Nevertheless — ” 

And he continued to haul. So they proceeded across the 
bridge, the shepherd shuffling, and hanging back, and squeal- 
irig, and clasping anguished hands about the hand that 
held his ear. 

When they came close to the pier on which the mid 
planks hung perilous, the shepherd, gripping Mr. Ryming- 
towne’s hand, flung all his weight back and checked. There 
was a moment of sway and struggle. Then the shepherd’s 
clumsy feet dislodged the planks. They slipped and fell 
with a splash. The two men drew back together from the 
swift, eddying water. 

Mr. Rymingtowne kept his hold of the ear. 

“ Ah ! So you did not altogether deceive me, my 
friend ! ” he said quietly. “ And how did you know that 
the bridge had been made ready for me to cross? ” 

“ Oh dear ! oh dear ! ” the shepherd whined, “ Sir Ralph 
said as I was idiot.” 

“ Sir Ralph ? ” Mr. Rymingtowne repeated. For the 
first time, something of anger came into his voice. “ Ay, 
and I think Sir Ralph will say that if you were not an 
idiot you had never blundered into my hands and blun- 
dered into warning me.” 

“ Dearie me ! ” said the shepherd sadly. “ And so it is, 
to be sure; and an idiot I be, or I would not have let you 
lead me by the ear ” — suddenly he freed himself — “ or 
ever let you find me when I was a-hiding, neither.” 

As he spoke he sped away with hardly a sound of foot- 
fall, and was lost in the dark. 

He was too sudden, too swift for Mr. Rymingtowne, 
who, after a futile spring at him, stood still staring. It 


SILLY SHEPHERD 


19 


was some time before Mr. Rymin'gtowne walked slowly 
back down stream to the bridge in the village. He was 
gay with thought. He found the shepherd interesting. 

He had often looked in the eyes of death. On the peril 
escaped he wasted little thought. He had no doubt that 
he was in debt to Sir Ralph. Who but his reverend 
cousin could gain anything by killing him? Sir Ralph’s 
part was plain enough — as plain as that there was no 
proof against him. For what proof of anything in a loose 
plank? So of Sir Ralph Mr. Rymingtowne’s mind made 
short work. He always expected little good of priests, and 
he had seen too much of life in Italy to be excited by 
any villainy. But the shepherd entertained him. Either 
the lad was a very sublime fool, or — or he was beyond 
understanding. But if he were a fool, how had he man- 
aged so neat an escape at the first moment he chose ? And 
if he were not a fool, what in the world was he at? The 
more Mr. Rymingtowne thought, the more he was delighted 
by enigmas. He went to sleep upon them. 


CHAPTER II 


BLACK MAGIC 

Early in the morning Sir Ralph was up. The piety of 
his temper compelled him to go sing matins before he at- 
tended to business. It is instructive to imagine his sen- 
sations as he knelt in prayer. From the church he hurried 
breathless up the river bank. Sure enough, there in the 
middle of the bridge the planks were gone. He peered 
down into the clear grey-green water with hope and horror. 
He was disappointed. 

Thereafter he felt faint and sought his rectory for food 
and drink. He could not eat, but a long draught of double 
ale stopped his shivering. Also it excited him, so that he 
must needs find out at once whether his man was dead or 
no. He hurried away to the manor house. 

As he came round the yew hedge of the herb garden he 
met Mr. Rymingtowne face to face. He started back 
fairly into the hedge, clutching at it with nervous hands. 
He flushed purple, and his veins knotted in his temples. 
Mr. Rymingtowne laughed genially. But in a moment the 
priest had command of his voice, if not his complexion. 

“ God bless thee with a good day ! he said kindly. 

‘‘ Well done ! ’’ Mr. Rymingtowne applauded. Piety 
should ever bear ill luck bravely ! 

The priest had quite recovered himself. He put on a 
puzzled frown. ‘‘Your jests are too cunning for me, 
cousin.” 

“ Why, would you have a ghost talk plainly? ” 

“ Ghost ? ” the priest echoed. 

20 


BLACK MAGIC 


21 


Mr. Rymingtowne made a clutch at his shoulder. 

“ Will you make oath I am flesh and blood ? ” he said in 
a hollow voice. 

''Are you mad?” Sir Ralph cried, and started away. 

Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. 

" Cousin, you have ever amused me. But never so much 
as now that you are a murderer.” 

" Mr. Rymingtowne ! ” the priest exclaimed with dig- 
nity. " Sir, you exceed the license of a jest. You wrong 
not me but the whole Church. This is blasphemy.” 

" Oh, brave ! ” Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. And then, 
with a sudden ferocity: "Man, look at your hands!” 
The priest started and glanced nervously this way and that. 
" Good cousin, a man of your superstitions will never en- 
joy his murders. Therefore in charity I’ll not let you con- 
summate mine.” 

He turned on his heel. 

Sir Ralph cried out, " I protest you are mad I ” and, as 
the back contemptuously receded : " Sir, it does not be- 

come my office to listen to such insolence.” Then he de- 
parted with much magnificence of gait. 

Mr. Rymingtowne went smiling to breakfast and his 
daughter. 

" Mary,” said he, " you will not walk the garden unless 
I am with you.” 

The child’s broad brow frowned. 

"Because of the shepherd?” she asked angrily. "I 
hate him.” 

"Of course,” said Mr. Rymingtowne, and considered 
her with grave interest. 

The shepherd’s flock was on the lower slopes of the 
down watched by his dog. The shepherd lay in the scanty 
shade of a gnarled old blackthorn, and Sir Ralph, as he 
saw him from afar, fancied that he had a book under his 
nose. But it was impossible that the silly shepherd should 
know how to read; and, indeed, when Sir Ralph came up 


22 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

there was no sign of his studying anything but bread-and- 
cheese. 

The shepherd grinned broadly with his mouth full. 

“ Have ’e brought my five pounds ? ’’ said he. 

‘‘Sirrah, what befell last night?” the priest snapped. 

The shepherd laughed. 

“ They planks was loosed. Squire, he come down in the 
dark. There was a gurt splash, there was. And you do 
owe a poor boy five pound.” 

“ Fool, the man is alive and well ! ” 

The shepherd’s face was contorted with fear. He 
crossed himself again and again and shivered. 

“ That is witchcraft, that is,” he mumbled. “ I told 
’e was a gurt conjurer. That is black witchcraft, to be 
sure. Oh dear! oh dear! his devils will be riding of I,” 
and he rolled on the turf and writhed. 

A moment Sir Ralph stood over him, watching with 
alarm not wholly contemptuous. Then he turned and 
walked slowly away. The silly shepherd had provided him 
with an idea. 

Witchcraft was felony. Nay, it was close akin to heresy, 
and might well be taken for heresy when the man who 
practised it was of free thought and speech. The bishops 
were very zealous after heretics. All across England the 
fires were glowing. A man could win favour and place 
by finding fresh victims. And what victim would burn 
more justly than Mr. Rymingtowne with his magic of 
alchemy and astrology, and his mockery of Holy Church? 
It was the sacred duty of a faithful priest to send him to 
the stake. With joyous excitement Sir Ralph beheld the 
law of man and God arranging the death that he needed. 

In the golden twilight of a showery day two men rode 
up to the rectory. They were soberly, sombrely dressed, 
and so much alike that the younger seemed to be wearing 
the elder’s old clothes. The elder was a heavy man with 


BLACK MAGIC 


23 


a keen tired face, the younger slim and stolid. Sir Ralph 
hurried out to meet them, and was greeted with precise 
formality : 

“ I am Dr. Oscott, the bishop’s commissioner. My sec- 
retary, Thomas Saunders.” 

Sir Ralph was much honoured, and welcomed them 
effusively into his parlour. Dr. Oscott fell wearily into a 
chair and looked Sir Ralph over. Mr. Saunders sat on the 
edge of a stool and stared at the hangings of faded red and 
green. 

“ His lordship commends your zeal, Sir Ralph. It is of 
high import that the lurking enemies of the faith should 
be sought out and destroyed. One heretic in secret may 
do more harm than twenty bold professors. Therefore^ 
my lord thanks you.” 

Sir Ralph was eloquently grateful, and pressed upon 
them generous entertainment. They ate and drank like 
gentlemen who found good appetite in heretic-hunting. 
Not till they were full and content did Sir Ralph approach 
his business. 

He expounded vigorously the iniquities of Mr. Ryming- 
towne; how he practised white magic and black; how he 
had built himself secret places in which to conceal his ugly 
mysteries; how all the people cowered before him as a 
man of more than human power; and how he used his 
ascendency to make them heretics by ever casting scorn 
on the Catholic faith and Holy Church. 

“ Such a man is of all infidels most dangerous and devil- 
ish,” said Dr. Oscott, and looked at his secretary. 

I think this man is his reverence’s cousin ? ” said Mr. 
Saunders meekly. 

‘‘ Therefore I have hesitated long to inform against 
him. Perhaps too long. And now it is with a heavy 
heart.” 

“ Your words, sir, do you honour,” said Dr. Oscott. 

Sir Ralph bowed, 


24 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Even while we speak he is to be seen in his observatory 
seeking magical aid of the stars.” 

“ I might, perhaps, see him, sir.” Mr. Saunders rose. 

“ Nay, gentlemen, but I fear you are too weary. On an- 
other night were better. I — ” 

‘‘We will go,” Dr. Oscott said. 

Sir Ralph led them on to the down, not without anxieties. 
Mr. Rymingtowne might choose that night to stay at home. 
Such callousness was in his character. But a light twinkled 
from the windmill. As they came up they saw a man move 
between them and the pale crescent of the new moon. Mr. 
Rymingtowne was on the roof with his telescope. 

“ So ” — Sir Ralph pointed and whispered — “ so he will 
sit with his magic glass, and then go in and all night through 
work out his spells by what it hath shown him.” 

Dr. Oscott peered up at the motionless astrologer. 

“ I like it not when a man would see more than is granted 
to men’s eyes,” he said severely. 

Sir Ralph shook his head sadly. 

“ The very spirit of Satan.” 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear, you make me crawl all over ! ” The 
whine seemed to come out of the ground. The good gentle- 
men started aside, to see the silly shepherd heave up his un- 
gainly bulk. “ Oh, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t ; and me 
just dreaming of rabbit pie and all ! ” 

Sir Ralph explained in rapid undertones. 

“ A shepherd lad, a very simple honest fellow. If you 
would know how the man is feared, no better witness.” 

Dr. Oscott nodded. “ Come, my lad, why so fright- 
ened ? ” 

The shepherd gaped. 

“ Why now, I ben’t sure what his reverence be wanting me 
to say.” 

“ The truth,” said Mr. Saunders. 

Speak out, Diccon lad. What does Mr. Rymingtowne 
do there ? ” 


BLACK MAGIC 


25 


The shepherd gaped. 

‘‘ I dunno.’’ 

“ Nay, then, why do you fear him? ” 

‘‘ Aw, Sir Ralph, you know that, to be sure.’’ 

Come, my lad, tell us,” Dr. Oscott insisted. 

“ Why, Sir Ralph here wants to be rid of him.” 

Mr. Saunders, the stolid secretary, put his hand on his 
master’s arm. There was a moment’s silence. Then Sir 
Ralph cried angrily : 

“ Come, sirrah, what was it you said to me of magic and 
the devils ? ” 

‘‘ Magical devils ? ” the shepherd drawled stupidly. 
“ Devils, says you to I ? ” 

“ Beshrew thee for a fool ! ” cried Sir Ralph. “ Come, 
gentlemen, the poor lad is dazed! But you have seen.” 
He waved his hand at the astrologer. 

‘‘ Quite,” said Mr. Saunders. They went back to the rec- 
tory, and Sir Ralph was voluble. 

Now, when they were gone, the shepherd lay down again 
and, with his chin on his hands, chewing a scrap of thyme, 
waited wakeful till Mr. Rymingtowne came down the hill 
homeward, stout stick in hand, sword at side. In a little 
while the silly shepherd rose up and made for the windmill. 
The door was on the latch — there were no locks on Assyn- 
ton doors then — he entered and climbed the ladder to the 
upper room, moving in the dark with an assured ease that 
proved him no stranger there. He put his hand on the 
tinder box and lit a candle. In a moment’s glance he found 
papers covered with figures and signs. He stuffed them in 
his bosom, blew out the light and was gone, swift and adroit 
as he had come. Then he slept happily till dawn. 

In the early morning he left his dog with his sheep and 
came down the hill whistling merrily ‘‘ Lady Greensleeves.” 
From behind a hedge he watched Sir Ralph take the two 
strange gentlemen down to the church for matins. While 
they were gone he slipped into the hall of the rectory. He 


26 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


dropped two of his stolen papers by the table where the 
inkhorn stood. He thrust the rest into most obvious con- 
cealment among the books above. 

Then he lounged down towards the church. The two 
strange gentlemen came out first and strolled up to the rec- 
tory while Sir Ralph was taking off his surplice. The shep- 
herd waited for Sir Ralph. 

Shambling, shuffling, grinning, plucking his forelock, he 
waited. 

‘‘ What is it, sirrah ? Hast found thy wits ? ” 

“ You’m cruel hard on a poor lad,’’ the shepherd whined 
plaintively. Oh, dear, and if as you had not made me so 
afeard, I would ha said whate’er your reverence pleased.” 

“ I wanted you to say the truth,” said Sir Ralph with dig- 
nity. 

The shepherd stared at him with stupid, puzzled eyes. 

“ Oh, magic and devils ! ” he muttered. ‘‘ Oh, but you 
shouldn’t ask me. I be afeard. Take the gentlemen into 
the windmill for to see for themselves. Squire do never 
use to be there till two hour after sundown. You could go 
by twilight like I did, and none the wiser.” 

What did you see, Diccon ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, dear, ’tis hideous indeed. There’s glass and there’s 
gold and all. And I took and ran.” 

Sir Ralph reflected. ‘‘ Hideous with glass and gold ” — 
that spelt black magic plainly enough. But he wanted more 
than magic. He wanted heresy. 

“ Hark thee, Diccon. Didst see any books there? ” 

The shepherd shook his head. 

‘‘No books, for sure. Only a mort of papers.” 

And again Sir Ralph reflected. 

“ Diccon lad, could you put some books there for me ? ” 

The shepherd stared lack of understanding. It was re- 
peated and explained — explained at last with a crown piece. 
The shepherd chuckled, 


BLACK MAGIC 


27 

“ Go on to the rectory, sirrah, and the cookmaid shall give 
thee breakfast/' 

Meanwhile Dr. Oscott and his secretary had come into 
the rectory hall to wait their host. The secretary, crossing 
to look at Sir Ralph’s books, saw before him those papers 
covered with strange figures, pentagons and pentagrams and 
cabalistic signs. He held them out to Dr. Oscott. 

‘‘ It seems, sir, that our good Sir Ralph also does some- 
thing in astrology.” Dr. Oscott bent his brows upon them 
while Mr. Saunders pulled out the bundle of papers clumsily 
thrust among the books. He would seem to have a great 
appetite for it,” said Mr. Saunders, and held out these too. 

Dr. Oscott turned them over. 

‘‘ He goes something beyond me,” he frowned. 

Mr. Saunders agreed. 

Sir Ralph came in, and his geniality was surprised by Dr. 
Oscott’s questioning stare. 

“You are yourself an astrologer. Sir Ralph?” 

“ I ? ” Sir Ralph stared. “ Nay, God forbid ! ” 

Dr. Oscott held out the papers. 

.“You keep these on your desk.” 

Sir Ralph turned them over with astonishment unfeigned. 

“ This is Mr. Rymingtowne’s hand ! ” he cried. “ Why, 
gentlemen, here is such evidence of his ill-practice as we 
need.” 

Dr. Oscott and his secretary exchanged glances. 

“ How came the evidence here ? ” said Mr. Saunders. 

“ I profess I know no more than you.” Sir Ralph was 
honestly amazed. “ Unless — unless that silly shepherd — ” 

He left the room in a hurry. 

“ That shepherd,” said Mr. Saunders, “ seems to occur 
conveniently.” 

Sir Ralph found him on the kitchen settle with his nose 
deep in a tankard of double ale. Sir Ralph hauled him out 
spluttering. 


28 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Rogue, what work were you at in my hall ? ” The 
shepherd gaped a dribbling mouth at him. ‘‘ Those papers 
of my cousin’s ” — Sir Ralph tried to shake sense into him. 

Come, sirrah, I know you must have brought them.” 

‘‘ Dearie me,” the shepherd whined, “ and me as thought 
you would like them.” 

Like them ! Beshrew thee for a fool ! I like them well 
enough, but why i’ God’s name could you not tell me of 
them? Faith, thou art a marvellous ass. If thou doest a 
good thing thou must needs turn it into a bad.” 

The shepherd began to whimper and sob grotesquely, so 
that Sir Ralph had much ado to soothe him. After a while 
he was persuaded, reluctant, to face the gentlemen and tell 
his tale, but as soon as Sir Ralph had him at the door of the 
hall, as soon as he saw the grave faces within, he began to 
howl once more. 

Come, Diccon, come,” Sir Ralph cried. ‘‘ No harm’s 
meant thee. Tell the gentlemen how the papers came here.” 
Diccon sobbed and whimpered still. Booby, speak out ! ” 

The shepherd shrank away and trembled. 

‘‘ Sir Ralph — Sir Ralph bids me say as I brought they 
papers,” he gasped. 

Mr. Saunders changed a glance with Dr. Oscott. 
“ Where didst find them, my lad ? ” said he. 

The shepherd looked at Sir Ralph for inspiration. Sir 
Ralph made an impatient gesture. 

In Squire’s windmill,” the shepherd cried in a hurry. 

‘‘ But who bade thee seek them ? ” said Mr. Saunders 
sharply. 

The shepherd shuffled back and gaped at him. In mute, 
stupid fear he made clumsy signs at Sir Ralph. 

Sir Ralph laughed. 

“ ’Tis an honest lad, gentlemen, but the dullest simple- 
ton.” 

“ I see that,” Mr. Saunders said. 

Sir Ralph waved the silly shepherd out. 


BLACK MAGIC 


29 


Thereafter, at breakfast, he fgund the good gentlemen 
something reserved. It is probable that they were them- 
selves not sure what they thought of him. Their natural 
desire to believe a priest and see heretics everywhere had 
been much impeded by the silly shepherd. Yet the priest 
was plausible and excellently devout. Moreover, if the 
mysterious papers were indeed Mr. Rymingtowne's, the 
priest was plainly right to charge him with magic. When 
the priest advised that they should visit the observatory and 
see for themselves what evidence of evil it held, they began 
to be pleased with him. Such a plan savoured of bold hon- 
esty. It agreed also with their official habits. Secret 
search of suspected houses was part of the regular order of 
the hunt for heresy. 

The day they spent in talk here and there with country- 
folk to discover how Mr. Rymingtowne was commonly re- 
garded. They found him with a reputation for kindliness 
and uncanny powers, and were the more inclined to believe 
in Sir Ralph. 

He was in the best spirits. Some copies of the New 
Testament in English, seized from the pack of a wicked 
pedlar, he had thrust upon the shepherd and sworn him to 
get them into the windmill room before sunset. English 
Testaments among the tools of magic must be enough to 
send any man to the stake. 

The morning was hot. The swift, grey-green river al- 
lured Mary Rymingtowne, who sat down among the king- 
cups and drew off her stockings. A shadow fell across her 
white legs. She clasped inadequate petticoats over them 
and looked up into the face of the silly shepherd. 

‘‘ You’m no right to go wandering without your father,'' 
he drawled. 

Her look was as fierce as a flogging, but did not disturb 
the shepherd, who continued to stare down at her legs with 
dull heavy curiosity. 

She blushed richly, snatched at her stockings and shoes. 


30 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


sprang up and rushed away. She was so unfortunate as 
to miss one stocking. The shepherd stooped for it and, 
holding it at full length, slouched after her. They came 
upon Mr. Rymingtowne, benign under a tree with Theoc- 
ritus. 

Father — this knave — ” the girl began to explode. 

The shepherd gave her the stocking and turned his back 
on her. 

“ I wants you, master,” he drawled. 

‘‘ Oh, sir, at your service,” Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. 
“What has the gentleman done, Mary?” 

The girl was in a difficulty. 

“ He — he looked,” she stammered and blushed painfully 
again. 

Mr. Rymingtowne rose and, beckoning to the shepherd, 
walked down stream. Out of sight of the girl he turned. 

“ Understand me, sir. I’ll not have you prowl and 
peep.” 

The silly shepherd stared. It is upon record that Mr. 
Rymingtowne saw something remarkable in his deep-set 
eyes. 

“ You’m a heretic,” he drawled. 

“ Now God ha’ mercy ! ” Mr. Rymingtowne burst out 
laughing. 

“There be they as will burn you for such. Sir Ralph, 
he hath got two catchpolls after you. ’Tis a Dr. Oscott and 
a Mr. Saunders. They’m minded to search your windmill 
to-night for the magic there. Do ’ee go and hide it before 
sunset if you ha’ no mind to try a fire.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne was amazed into silence for a moment. 
For a moment the gleaming dark eyes of the silly shepherd 
stared into his. Then he found himself looking at nothing. 
The hazels were swaying behind the shepherd’s back. Mr. 
Rymingtowne called after him in vain. 

But he had told enough. Mr. Rymingtowne knew his 
world well enough to know that a taste for astrology might 


BLACK MAGIC 


31 


condemn a man to death. That his cousin was zealous to 
procure his death he had seen. If Dr. Oscott were come to 
Assynton — Dr. Oscott, who had hunted heretics down all 
over the diocese — the danger was imminent. He knew 
how to act. In a moment he was climbing the down to 
the windmill. He saw his way. He would abolish all evi- 
dence of his science. He would let the good gentlemen 
come and search, and when they had found nothing, break 
in upon them. It would be hard then if he could not make 
that fanatic doctor believe Sir Ralph a knave. 

In the whirl of his own concerns he paused again and 
again to wonder at the silly shepherd. Who could have 
dreamed that the dull heavy lout had such a clear brain in 
him ? Why had he chosen to hide it ? Why was he pleased 
to reveal it now for the service of Mr. Rymingtowne? 
They were questions that could wait for an answer, but 
questions that insisted on being heard. And Mr. Ryming- 
towne would have found them more insistent if he had 
known all the plan on which the brain in that heavy head 
was working placidly. 

Through the twilight Sir Ralph led his guests up to the 
windmill. They were in a good humour with him, having 
persuaded themselves that they were on the track of guilt. 
But, as they came to the door, the shepherd rose out of the 
ground, grinning and pulling his forelock, and Mr. Saun- 
ders, a suspicious mind, was disturbed. He did not under- 
stand why the shepherd had always to assist; and, more- 
over, it seemed to him that Sir Ralph made signs at the 
shepherd, and certainly the shepherd nodded and gave a 
silly laugh. 

Sir Ralph opened the door. 

“ Oh, dear, you’m bold, you’m bold,” said the shepherd, 
and they came into darkness. Lanterns were lit, and they 
found themselves inside an empty shell of stone. The mill 
had been all dismantled. All the timbers were gone, and 
the stones and wheels. Only a ladder reached up through 


32 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


the darkness to the room beneath the roof. Sir Ralph be- 
gan to climb, and the shepherd came last. 

Before he was at the top he heard exclamations. When 
he came through the trap door he found them hunting nerv- 
ously about a room “ bare as your hand.” It had in it no 
more than two wooden chairs and a table, and on the table 
a little book. 

Dr. Oscott turned flushing upon Sir Ralph. 

“ It seems you have deceived yourself, sir. At least, you 
have sought to deceive us.” 

Sir Ralph, who was pale and unsteady, stammered out : 

‘‘I — I am amazed. The man is certainly a sorcerer. 
Perhaps this is sorcery. I — ” 

Mr. Saunders had been looking at the book on the table. 

“ Perhaps this is heresy?” he suggested and held it out. 
It was a breviary printed at Rome. 

Sir Ralph recoiled from it, saw the silly shepherd stand 
gaping and sprang at him. ‘‘What is this, knave? You 
told me the place — ” 

“ No, no,” the shepherd cried. “ It was you as told I. 
You told I to — ” 

Sir Ralph struck him aside. 

“ Must you prate, rogue ? Get you gone, I say,” and 
tried to drive him to the ladder. 

“ What was he going to say ? ” said Mr. Saunders sharply. 

Sir Ralph turned and forced a laugh. 

“ Oh, ’tis a dull fool. Come, gentlemen, I doubt we must 
search more cunningly. Doubtless there is some secret 
place.” 

He pointed them into the corners of the room and made 
a bustle of searching himself. At the worst he hoped for 
Testaments. 

The shepherd began to whimper. 

“ You ha’ come too soon,” he whined. 

Sir Ralph started round. 


BLACK MAGIC 


33 


“ What dost mean by that ? ” he cried. “ Come, Diccon.” 
He took the shepherd’s arm and began to draw him aside. 
“ The Testaments, lad,” he whispered. 

Mr. Saunders, who had been affecting an interest in the 
walls, laid a finger on Dr. Oscott and swung round. 

“ Certainly. What does he mean? ” said he. 

“ And why do you whisper, sir ? ” Dr. Oscott cried, and 
advanced upon them. 

The shepherd shuffled back whining: 

‘‘ ’Tiddn’t my fault. I hadn’t no time. You come too 
soon.” 

Sir Ralph cried out : 

“ Nay, doctor, ’tis an innocent, a natural. He knows 
not what he says. You must not heed him,” and he made 
frenzied signs to the shepherd. 

‘‘ I know not who is innocent, sir ; nor why you fear the 
lad so,” Dr. Oscott said sternly. “ Come, lad, tell me the 
truth, and thou’lt have no harm. Why do you say we were 
too soon ? ” 

“ Sir Ralph, he bade me put they little books here for 
you to find un,” the shepherd whined. '‘And I hadn’t no 
time.” 

“ He is mad — he — ” Sir Ralph screamed, and was 
checked by Mr. Saunders’s hand heavy on his shoulder. 

" You do not forget that you are your cousin’s heir, sir,” 
said Mr. Saunders, and Sir Ralph stared at him and mut- 
tered. 

Dr. Oscott glanced aside and turned again to the shep- 
herd. 

" Sir Ralph bade you put books here for us to find. What 
books, my lad ? ” 

" I ha’ not stole they,” the shepherd whined. “ Here a be.” 

He fumbled in his bosom and plucked out the English 
Testaments. 

With some wild cry Sir Ralph started forward to seize 


34 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


them. Mr. Saunders held him. Dr. Oscott opened the 
books, and one look was enough. 

‘‘ So, sir, this is the mystery ! ” he cried. ‘‘ You contrive 
false evidence to compass your cousin’s death ! ” 

It is a lie,” Sir Ralph screamed. “ The fool is mad. 
He is possessed of the devil. You are mad to heed him. 
You are besotted. You — ” 

“ Thou miserable knave ! ” Oscott advanced upon him 
white with a fanatic’s anger. 

Sir Ralph drew back, but screaming still, and as he drew 
back the shepherd thrust out a foot. Sir Ralph stumbled 
over it, staggered, and fell backwards through the trap- 
door down the dark shaft. There was a scream, and a 
thud, and silence. 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear, you ha’ killed un ! ” the shepherd 
cried. 

The two gentlemen looked at one another and, gathering 
up their lanterns, began to descend the ladder. On the 
stones below they found only death. 

As they knelt together, Mr. Rymingtowne opened the 
door. ‘‘ Ods body,” he cried. What knaves are you ? 
Hold up your lanthorns, sirrahs ! ” They stumbled to their 
feet and the lanterns’ light revealed pallor and agitation. 
Behind them sideways the shepherd made for the door. 
Mr. Rymingtowne, who did not appear to see him, came 
forward. “Oh! Gentlemen, a hundred pardons,” he 
bowed low. “ I much fear you have found poor entertain- 
ment. I must have forgot that I had bidden you here.” 
He saw Sir Ralph on the ground. “ But I make no doubt 
my good cousin has done the honours for me nobly. Why ? 
How now ? ” He bent over the body . . . “ So ! Pray 
which of you am I to charge with the holy man’s death?” 
He did not look at the shepherd who stole out swift and 
silent. 

“Mr. Gabriel Rymingtowne?” Dr. Oscott stammered. 

“ You are a little late in knowing me.” 


BLACK MAGIC 


35 


“ Sir, I give you joy on a great deliverance.’' 

“ Sir, you are very good. But I have a taste for de- 
livering myself.” 

‘‘ Mr. Rymingtowne, the man who lies there was subtly 
and zealously your enemy. He sought to compass your 
death. He denounced you to us as heretic. He would 
have deceived us with false evidence against you. In the 
hope to suborn and fabricate it he brought us here. Now 
there he lies stricken by the hand of God.” 

“ I have your word for it,” said Mr. Rymingtowne. 
“ Yet perhaps you flatter me.” 

The two looked at each other. It was plain that they 
acknowledged his right to be haughty with them. ** Let 
me tell my tale, sir,” said Dr. Oscott. 

I think you have need.” 

‘‘ Give me leave, sir,” said Dr. Oscott and told who he 
was and all as it happened. 

At the end, Mr. Rymingtowne, who had listened without 
a sign, bowed gravely. “ It is not for me to question Dr. 
Oscott’s duty or his word. In some sort it seems I am 
your debtor, sir. Nevertheless, as the man was of my 
blood I must ask that you give me the story under your 
hand and seal.” 

“ Your servant, sir,” said Dr. Oscott. 

They passed out into the night. 

Where the shepherd spent it or how is no matter. He 
had shoes and stockings when Assynton saw him next 
day. 

Mary Rymingtowne was walking all white in her rose 
garden. She turned by the sweet brier hedge to meet the 
shepherd face to face. She grew pale. ‘‘ My father has 
sought you everywhere,” she said in a low voice. The 
shepherd laughed. “ He says that you — you are the 
strangest creature — Diccon, you — ” 

Aw, you’m not to mind that,” the shepherd said. 

After a moment's silence she looked away from his deep- 


36 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

set eyes. “ You must go speak with him,” she said in a 
hurry. 

“ Nay, not I. I be going away,” the shepherd laughed. 

“ Going away?” the pale face spoke wonder and some- 
thing more. 

“ I could not be going before,” he apologised. ‘‘ You 
was not safe. Now 'tis all well.” 

Her breath came quickly, her face was white. ‘‘ Why — 
why are you going away ? ” 

The hulking body leaned towards her. He flung out his 
big hand and caught her by the throat and his fingers 
gripped into the bare flesh. The girl’s bosom beat to and 
fro, there was fear in her blue eyes, but she did not resist 
him, her hands were clasped, she stayed quite still. For 
to come back,” he said and was gone. 


CHAPTER III 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 

He was in a ditch at Fyfield eating cold bacon and onions 
when he decided to call himself Richard Rymingtowne. 
It’s a proof of his confident vanity, to be sure, but no less 
of his relish for humour. 

A man in the quest of his fortune is the stronger for a 
name of dignity. The silly shepherd had discovered that 
within the small world between Caine and Hungerford. 
By violence or guile or blatant importunity — I conceive 
him meditating them all — he was resolved to wring his 
fortune out of humanity. You wonder what made a shep- 
herd ambitious. Of course he wanted trinkets to put into 
the lap of that long, pale-faced child at Assynton. Of 
course he wanted her on his knee and conceived it impos- 
sible unless that knee wore silk. In the matter of sex he 
was very simply a man. But certainly much more than 
sex impelled him to his venture. I suppose he found it 
dull to beat to and fro farm and down and market. He 
had an appetite for action. I have no doubt that he coveted 
rich living and soft lying. You can see that in his mouth. 
But most of all — this is in every line of his face and every 
word of his papers — most of all he wanted power, to 
command, to be a master of men, to order their wits and 
their strength. He might have done it in the grand man- 
ner, I think, he might have swayed great issues, but for all 
his ambition and all his greed the chalk downs held him in 
thrall. All the rest of the world in fee was no good bar- 
gain for the vale and the hills of Assynton. I suppose he 
could not conceive himself content in any other place. 

37 


38 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


So you may find reasons for his naming himself Ryming- 
towne. Since he had settled to annex the girl and her 
land in the end, he might as well have her name betimes. 
He had no fear of meeting any one beyond Caine who knew 
that his father had been merely Dick swineherd and if he 
found any aware of that pale girl in the manor house it 
would be an entertainment for them to wonder what in the 
world he had to do with her. 

He came into the alehouse at Avebury all wan with chalk 
dust, like a great ghost. You see him sprawling, loose- 
limbed, ungainly, on the black oak settee, while they put 
before him a quart jack of strong beer and a platter of 
beechwood laden with a pound or more of beef. He had 
to pay as much as twopence, for it was the year that 
Cranmer went to his death — a year of high prices. But 
Dick always was kind to his body. 

While he ate and drank — his manners were tidy, but 
not beautiful — there came in a handsome fellow who 
called for sack. The alehouse kept no foreign liquors, and 
its hostess said so haughtily, and the handsome gentleman 
had to content himself with ale. Which he might have 
expected. And why, if he had a taste for sack, did he come 
to the alehouse? So Dick’s mind communed with itself, 
while his large mouth ground down beef noisily. When 
he drank he looked round the tankard. 

The gentleman had a handsome, feeble face, like a stained 
glass saint, and golden hair that curled below his ears. He 
was in black velvet above his riding boots, with a collar 
of silver lace. There were stains and frayed places that 
gave him an air of picturesque dilapidation. Dick won- 
dered what might be the use of him to this world. The 
handsome gentleman had no interest in Dick. His whole 
intelligence was plainly devoted to expecting some one else. 

A purple hat and a purple cloak swaggered in. From 
them emerged a lean little man, brown as a nut, with queer 
pale eyes. His doublet was purple slashed with gold, and 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


39 


purple his hose. He flung hat and cloak on Dick’s table 
and himself on Dick’s settle with a shrill: “Avoid thee, 
rustic ! ” as he wiped his boots on Dick’s arm. Dick shrank 
humbly away and pulled his forelock, and took the rest of 
his beer at a gulp and shambled out. He heard the shrill 
voice demand double ale as he went. 

But he had no intention of leaving them to themselves. 
Gentlemen so splendid would never be in an alehouse un- 
less they had some queer business. If they wanted to be 
secret, there must be profit in them. And the little man 
pleased him. 

They heard his heavy shuffle pass away down the 
street. 

“ Basta, a good sheep that ! ” said the little man, and 
drank. 

They did not hear him turn off and circumnavigate the 
alehouse to come back again. Under the shed at the side 
he halted. He was out of sight from door or window, but 
through the unglazed lattice windows their voices came to 
him clear. 

“ Well, Tony, my bully,” quoth the little man, “ the thing 
marches. Old hunks hath sold his wool and now is pouch- 
ing the gold.” 

“ How much, sir ? ” Tony cried eagerly. 

The little man reached up and tweaked his ear. 

“ Booby, what do I care? ’Tis but a sprat to catch our 
whale. Have you forgot your orders? Repeat them, sir- 
rah ! ” 

The handsome face was sulky. 

“ Jump out on him and crack his crown. When he comes 
to, swear that we have rid up just in time to drive off two 
brutal fellows who were robbing him.” 

The little man reached up and pulled the other’s nose. 

“Antonio, my Cupid, I’ll teach thee to remember or- 
ders, if I have to carve them on thy skin. Where did I 
bid thee wait him, gosling? ” 


40 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


By the withered oak under Cherhill down/’ Anthony 
muttered. 

“ So ! Carry on, then. And if there’s a blunder, my 
bully. I’ll slit thy pretty nose to shreds. So here’s to the 
venture and a full hold of the spices of Bengala! ” 

Dick heard them moving and departed swiftly. When 
they came from the alehouse yard with their horses he was 
in a shop, spending a halfpenny on whipcord. He saw a 
chance that it might be useful. The two gentlemen, it was 
plain, were going to waylay an old man with money on the 
road by Cherhill down and Cherhill down was between 
Avebury and Caine. Towards Caine Dick made the best 
of his speed. 

In a while he saw the little lean man before him, riding 
at an easy pace, and he checked and was careful not to be 
seen. But the handsome, dilapidated Tony was not to be 
seen either. So the two gentlemen had parted company. 
Dick directed his large ingenious brain to consider how they 
were to carry out their benevolent plan, and what was 
meant to be its issue. And his face was all stupid, and 
still more stupid, after its habit when thinking elaborately. 
They were to knock their man senseless, and stand by him 
till he got his wits again, and then swear that they had 
saved him from naughty rogues. 

The notion appeared to Dick delicately humorous, and 
therefore he looked more loutish than ever. But why not 
take the old fellow’s money and have done with him? 
Plainly, because they hoped to get more out of him by pos- 
ing as his saviours. These were gentlemen of large ideas. 
And what were they? Not the common rogues of the 
highway. Not gentlemen born either. They lacked the 
air, and their speech was queer. Mighty queer. What 
was that about “ a full hold of the spices of Bengala ” ? 
It sounded like apothecaries’ talk. But he did not conceive 
that little lean man an apothecary. 

Dick plodded on three miles, always two turns of the 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


41 


road behind the little man, and they came over the shoulder 
of Cherhill down. There was the withered oak of the 
plan, a grim grey shape stretching skeleton ar.ms. The 
little man jogged on slowly and still more slowly. Dick 
left the road and took to the down, using each fold of the 
ground with a shepherd’s skill to hide him. He climbed 
high enough to watch the road for a mile back, and waited. 

In a little while he saw Tony riding fast, an ominous 
black cavalier. But suddenly as he came by a break in the 
hill Tony vanished. He must be waiting his man there, 
half a mile short of the withered oak. The plan had gone 
awry. Dick’s heavy face became of a lifeless stupidity. 
He saw the little man halt and look back again and again, 
and at last wrench his horse round and canter back to the 
oak. He was restless in the saddle. Dick could feel him 
swear. 

The situation was altogether delightful. Dick chuckled 
and heaved himself up, and went swiftly on a course that 
led him across the hollow where Tony waited, and down 
to the high road beyond. But he halted behind a thorn. 

You see the landscape: a white road through waves of 
turf with sparse, wind blasted bushes and stunted trees, 
and to southward the grey-green swell of the down. There 
is no life in it but some sheep and three men expectant at 
their several stations. Another came into the picture — 
a pursy fellow on a bony cob. From his ditch Dick saw 
white hair and a red face with deep lines about the mouth. 
He came level with Tony unsuspecting. Tony broke out 
from the lane and drove a pistol butt down on his skull. 
He fell a shapeless heap on the road. His cob staggered 
and found its feet and cantered off. Tony was down be- 
side him fumbling in his clothes, plucked out a plump little 
leather bag, and sprang to the saddle again. 

Dick understood. The dilapidated Tony was improving 
on his master’s plan for his private good. Dick felt it 
capable of further improvement. Before Tony had 


42 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


mounted he had darted across the road and back again 
to his ditch. As Tony came galloping with the booty he 
was invisible. Invisible, too, against the white road was 
a double ply of whipcord knotted firm from tree to tree. 

Tony’s horse found it and came crashing down. Tony 
was hurled on, and met the ground with a thud that satis- 
fied Dick, who came out of his ditch on the instant, rolled 
the limp heap over, and took from it the leather bag. This 
he put in his bosom, and careless whether Tony, now much 
more dilapidated, were dead or alive, he turned and made 
off. But before he went he untied his whipcord and rolled 
it into his pocket. He disliked waste. So he went on to- 
wards the old man who was robbed, and the little lean man, 
leaving Tony and Tony’s horse lifeless upon the road. 

Now, since this road was level and winding, and the lit- 
tle lean man was some way off the nearest of the two 
robberies, he saw neither of them, and his first chance of 
guessing at anything came when the old man’s frightened 
cob broke into view. With a rolling Spanish oath he 
cursed Tony for a fool. He spurred forward, caught the 
cob and jerked it round, and made haste — the cob was 
neither willing nor speedy — to seek its master. 

In the middle of the road the old man lay, plain enough. 
But Tony was not to be seen. Swearing with mellow 
eloquence, the little man rode on. He could not guess that 
the noise he heard faintly in the distance was the noise 
of Tony’s fall. He was not yet sure what Tony had done, 
but the flow of his profanity was more than eloquent. 
However, he kept to his plan. He sprang down to help 
the victim, and tenderly was raising him when the victim 
sat up and stared and muttered : 

What is it? Where be I?” 

“ In parlous hap, save for my coming, good sir ! Hath 
the villain wounded thee?” 

The old man blinked narrow eyes at him. 

And who the fiend art thou ? ” he said sourly. 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


43 

Good sir, thank God for Captain Nicholas Doricot.” 
He held out his hand to help the old man up. 

But watching him with malign eyes, the old man began 
to feel in his pockets. 

‘‘ Captain Nicholas Doricot,’' he repeated in a small, 
contemptuous voice. ‘‘ I ha’ been robbed. Captain Nicholas 
Doricot ! ” 

Diavolo, I feared it ! ” quoth Captain Doricot with a 
frown, and his pale eyes searched down the road after the 
vanished Tony. “If I had caught the knave!” he mut- 
tered, and there was no doubt of his honest anger. He 
stamped, and his brown face was pale. For the gosling 
Tony to dare cheat him and get well away was visibly in- 
tolerable to him. Then he commanded himself. “ A 
most damnable vile rogue, sir I ” he cried in his shrill voice. 
“ And you may thank me he robbed you of no more than 
your purse. But for Captain Doricot, my friend, you were 
dead as salted herring.” 

“Thank you, quotha! No thank you!” the old man 
snarled. “ Here’s I get knocked o’ the head and stripped, 
and find you standing over me to bid me thank you. I’ll 
thank you for my money.” 

Captain Doricot kept his temper. 

“ Good father, when I hove in sight — ’twas your cob 
coming past me with no man on him that made me turn 
y back — when I hove in sight, there was a black fellow, over 
you with a knife quick to slit your weasand. He fled be- 
fore me — there is not many will abide Doricot’s sword.” 
He pulled it half out and slammed it back with an air. 
“ Call me your salvation ! ” 

The old man got on his feet. 

“ Salvation, to be sure! Where’s my money?” said he. 

“ Now beshrew thee for a thankless soul ! ” cried Dori- 
cot with honest indignation. ‘‘ Is money more to thee than 
life?” 

The old man stared at him and sniffed. 


44 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


At this moment Dick came plodding along. He did not 
seem to see them till he was close upon them. Then he 
gaped, but gaping shambled still on his way. 

“ Here! ” the old man called. ‘‘ Where are you from? ’’ 
Dick stood still and gaped at him. ‘‘ Where are you from, 
my lad ? ” the old man repeated, coming towards him. 

Out o’ Caine I be. And what be that to you, if you 
please?” Dick drawled. 

‘'Caine? Have you met ever a man on the road?” 

“ You’m free with your questions,” Dick grumbled. 

“ Come, good fellow,” quoth Captain Doricot, “ hath 
any man passed you o’ horseback?” 

Dick swung round and showed him a large gaping mouth. 

“ Now, my lad, speak out I ” the old man cried. “ Have 
you met ever a man on the road ? ” 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear, and who’m you at all ? ” Dick opened 
dull, stubborn eyes. 

“ I am Job Hartop, of Coldarbour,” the old man swelled. 
“ Go to ; answer me, fool ! ” 

“And what was you asking?” Dick drawled, and when 
the question was vehemently repeated he scratched his head 
for a while. “ I mind there was a man a-galloping a way 
back. Not so far neither, nor yet so near neither, as you 
might say.” 

“With a black cloak to him, good fellow?” cried Dori- 
cot. 

“ Ay, he was a black un, so he was ! Do you know 
un?” 

With a ferocious oath Captain Doricot consigned the 
dilapidated Tony to the devil. Mr. Job Hartop turned 
upon him. 

“And prithee what have you to swear about?” he said 
sourly. 

Captain Doricot struck an attitude. 

“ Remark me, Mr. Hartop I I am a man whose honour 
it is to achieve everything that I essay. I have here failed. 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


45 


I have saved only your life — less use, as you rightly con- 
ceive, than your money. Therefore I condemn myself. 
And if ever I find your black friend I will cut out his 
vitals for my consolation. Diable de moinillon! I have 
spoken ! ” 

Dick stared at him and gave a stupid guffaw. 

Captain Doricot sprang forward like a cat and pulled his 
nose. 

“ You laugh, good rustic — you laugh, I think ! There's 
a joke fit for thy wits. Via! Away! He swung round 
upon Mr. Hartop, who was glowering. “ Come, sir, you 
are shaken. I will escort you to your door.” 

Mr. Hartop turned upon Dick, who stood blowing his 
nose. 

“ If I was your age, my lad, I would ha' knocked him 
down.” 

Dick guffawed again. 

“ Dearie me, 'tis too little a man for me to hit. I had a 
jackdaw to Assynton hopped and tweaked like he. I called 
un Shortlegs.” 

He pointed at the little lean shanks of Captain Doricot, 
who sprang to the saddle and sat there royally. 

** The next time, rustic, thy nose will be slit,” said he. 
‘‘ Come, Hartop, let us ride.” 

Mr. Hartop eyed him. 

“Look you, Mr. Shortlegs, methinks the roads were 
safer before you came,” he said. “ And I’ll find them 
safest now if you ride before me.” 

“ What, sir ! Do you impute ? ” Captain Doricot walked 
his horse forward. “ Do you insinuate ? Speak plain, I 
entreat.” 

Mr. Hartop withdrew behind the bulk of Dick, who stood 
firm, grinning, swinging his ash staff. 

“ Go your ways,” said Hartop nervously. “ So they be 
not mine.” 

Captain Doricot laughed. 


46 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Who knows, my Croesus ? All ways are Doricot’s. 
If thou art wise in time and waking gratitude bids thee 
seek him, ride to ‘ The Bull ’ in Chippenham. To our 
meeting! ” 

He turned and spurred off. 

Mr. Hartop stared after him, pale and dazed and mut- 
tering something. Then, turning, he plucked earnestly at 
Dick’s sleeve. 

My good lad, my good lad, give me company to Cold- 
arbour, and it shall be worth thy pains.” 

Dick laughed. 

Mr. Hartop’s cob was ready enough to go at a walk 
and, indeed, kept lagging behind. Mr. Hartop, with brief 
intervals, beat him importunately, and in that seemed to 
find consolation for his disaster and his anxieties. Once 
he spoke to Dick. 

“ That’s a nasty little hornet of a man. Hadst ever 
seen him before, my lad?” 

Dick’s gaping face was answer enough. Mr. Hartop 
went on beating his cob. 

It was the boyish nature of Dick to delight in playing 
providence, Nemesis, a punitive superintendent of human- 
ity. The memory of the ingenious Tony’s overthrow and 
the impotent ravings of Captain Doricot was very sweet. 
Of that grateful process, biting the biter, there could not be 
a more polished example. But perhaps he found still more 
satisfaction in Mr. Hartop, in Mr. Hartop’s choosing for 
his protector against thieves the man who had the stolen 
money in his shirt. The successful thief guardian of the 
victim against the failures! Such humour was above all 
other species to Dick’s taste. 

In his capacity of Nemesis you suppose that he should 
have given the money back to Mr. Hartop. But this is 
too ingenuous. The idea of such formal, such pedantic 
honesty never occurred to his lucid mind. He was no slave 
of convention. The money was superficially Mr. Hartop’s. 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


47 


But who would dare be sure that he had the best right to 
it? His manners were deplorable. He commanded no 
confidence. The matter demanded investigation. Of all 
the rivals to that money bag Dick much preferred the little 
Captain Doricot. He desired to know more of Captain 
Doricot, whose bearing suggested greater schemes than the 
bleeding of Mr. Hartop. 

Coldarbour farmstead stood a mile or more out of Caine. 
Its barns and byres were tumbling down, and there was 
about it little signs of life or work. Plainly Mr. Hartop’s 
farming was a matter of sheep and their wool. Dick 
frowned. 

Why should a shepherd quarrel with a man for keeping 
sheep? In that reign tillage was everywhere yielding to 
pasture, corn to flocks. For the sake of the wool, common 
fields and common meadows were being stolen from the 
poor folk by yeomen and squire and peer. As the sheep 
conquered each mile more of land there was less work 
for man to do, less wage to earn, less bread to eat. The 
poor were so much the poorer, the rich so much the 
richer. 

You conceive Dick glowering at the lifeless farmstead 
while his lack of love for Mr. Hartop froze into something 
harder. 

As they turned into the yard a young woman came up 
quickly. She was handsome, in a dark full-blooded fash- 
ion, something too plump, like Mr. Hartop. She stared 
with her hand to her bosom. She seemed out of breath. 

“Uncle — why — you — you be late, ben’t you?” she 
stammered. 

“ You are a fool,” Mr. Hartop snarled. “ Take the cob 
in.” 

She grew pale and flushed and tugged the cob off in a 
hurry. 

Mr. Hartop turned to Dick and twisted his mouth into 
a smile. 


48 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ I’ll not need you more, my good lad. Good-night to 
you!” 

“ Here, come now ! ” Dick cried. ‘‘ Said as I should 
ha’ some’ut for my pains, master.” 

Mr. Hartop’s smile vanished. 

“ Come in, sirrah,” he snarled, and led the way to the 
square stone house. In the big, bare kitchen the smallest 
of fires glowed. Mr. Harvop took a small mug to the beer 
barrel and watched the trickling spigot with anxious care. 
“ There’s for you,” he said as though it were nectar. 

Dick swallowed, and make a wry face and spat. 

‘‘ I be robbing they pigs o’ yourn,” he said humbly, and 
put the mug down. 

Mr. Hartop sneered. 

‘‘ Thy stomach is too nice for me, sirrah. Take it away. 
Thou greedy knave 1 ” 

Dick gaped. 

‘‘ I was going to tell ’e some’ut,’' he drawled. “ Some’ut 
as you ought to know.” 

Mr. Hartop’s face changed. He imagined something of 
his loss or Captain Doricot. 

‘‘ What, then, my good lad ? ” he cried nervously. 
“ Come, speak out I ” 

Give I a shilling,” Dick whined. 

Mr. Hartop stared at him, and after much fumbling in 
his clothes pulled out a groat. 

Dick snatched it. 

“ Y’ought to know you’m a stingy old hunks,” he said 
with a grin. 

Mr. Hartop struck at him and hit the door-post. Mr. 
Hartop called an oath after him. 

Dick laughed as he crossed the yard. Then he looked 
at the groat and shook his head over it. 

“ You’m none so much to laugh at,” he grumbled. 

He was angry with Hartop for being no use to him. 
The knowledge that he had a bag of Mr. Hartop’s money 


CAPTAIN DORICOT 


49 


was in no way soothing, for he had come by that without 
Mr. Hartop’s assistance. An ungrateful, stingy old hunks ! 

So he was lamenting his wrongs, when he saw Mr. Har- 
top’s plump niece in an interesting position. She was by 
the side of the barn, out of sight from the house, and she 
stared eagerly, anxiously down the road towards Caine. 
She did not hear Dick’s step till he was close upon her. 
Then she started more violently than was reasonable, and 
stared in a fright. 

“ Give ’e good-night, mistress,” said Dick stolidly. 

“ You are going! ” she cried. ** Oh, are you going? ” 

“ I ben’t axed for to stay,” Dick drawled. 

“Why did he bring you? Where did you find him? 
Tell me! Has he been robbed?” 

Dick gaped at her. From the house Mr. Hartop sounded 
petulant and angry. 

“Tabitha! Lazy slut! Tabitha!” 

She fled, and Dick shambled off. 


CHAPTER IV 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 

As he went it was borne upon him that he had not done 
with Mr. Hartop yet. He trudged on towards Caine till 
he was well away from Coldarbour Farm. Then he turned 
aside, and under hedgerows made his way back, and sat 
himself down where, unseen, he commanded house and 
yard, and pulled out a cake of gingerbread. He had al- 
ways a sweet tooth. 

His unsentimental mind was giving Tabitha an ill name. 
She was, of course, too plump for him, and that made him 
suspicious. He set down against her a loose mouth and 
yearning eyes. But, for all that, he might have called her 
nothing worse than a baggage. He had felt something in 
her expression and her bearing that he condemned for nox- 
ious. You may wonder by what right he made himself 
a judge. But Dick always had his moralities. 

What Tabitha’s passions might demand interested him 
much. For, plainly, Tabitha had some business in hand. 
Why else should she watch the road and be anxious for 
his going? And perhaps Tabitha knew something more 
than she ought. Or why should she fancy that her uncle 
had been robbed ? Dick chuckled soberly. The world was 
full of joy. 

The sun sank into a lake of gold. Down and vale grew 
vague in lavender twilight. Dick watched still, and once 
and again he saw Tabitha come out and peer down the 
road. But there was no one upon it. Light and colour 
faded. In a cloud-strewn sky the stars stood clear. For 

50 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


51 


a little while a candle glimmered in the farmhouse. Dick 
saw it move from window to window, and heard the groan 
of bolts. Then all was dark silence. And still Dick 
watched. 

In a little while he heard a horse coming from Avebury. 
It halted some way off. Then from near at hand Dick 
heard an owl hoot. He stole along the hedgerow. Close 
in the gloom of a patch of osiers a man stood waiting. 
His face was not to be seen, but he had the height and 
pose of the handsome dilapidated Tony. Dick grinned 
through the dark. He was just the man for Tabitha to 
choose. 

A rustle and scurry, and Tabitha came. She flung her- 
self upon the man and kissed him fiercely. 

“My dearie, my dearie, and me half mad with fright! 
Oh, what’s come to thee at all? Tony! Art not hurt?” 

“ Every bone in me is bruised. What’s come to me ? 
How do I know? What’s come of old Hartop?” 

“ Why — why, but the old beast was caught ? He’s ra- 
ging over his lost money, like the miserly old devil he is. 
Tony ! Sure, the money’s safe, dear lad ? ” 

“ Rot me if I know if my head be safe. I ha’ been 
trapped, Tib.” She clutched at him. “ I had the old dev- 
il’s bag, and was safe away — no sign of Doricot — and 
down goes my horse; and when I come to myself I have 
not a stiver upon me. Oh, I’ll swear it’s a trick of that 
fox Doricot.” 

Tony swore at him vehemently. 

“The beast! The beast!” Tabitha sobbed and clung 
to him. They gave some time to grief and rage. Then 
Tabitha began to caress her man. “ Tony, dear lad, let’s 
begone. We’ll not — ” 

“ Begone, quotha! ” cried Tony. “ How can I take thee 
without a shilling? I have none, nor know where to turn 
for one, thanks to this pretty plan of thine. Would I 
had had the sense to stand by the captain! Never a man 


52 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


prospered by crossing him yet. Oh, he hath the fiend to 
his comrade! Who could — 

“Tony! Tony! There is a way yet. Oh, I hate thee 
for fearing that little foxy man. Dearie, thou art man 
enough for a dozen o’ his make. And there is a way, my 
heart. The old miser hath plenty more. Why, there be 
five hundred pound to his strong box. Look ’e, now, my 
dear ; wait a while till the old rat be a-sleeping — he hath 
but just gone to his bed, and he’s fidgety. I’ll draw the 
bolts and you may come in and master him. Then we’ll 
away with more than we ever hoped, my dearie.” She 
kissed him eagerly. “ Why, Tony, I’ll make thee rich as 
a lord. And if the old rat do get hurt, why, there be none 
will find him till the shepherds come down to the farm o’ 
Saturday.” 

From the farmhouse came Mr. Hartop’s peevish voice: 

“ Tabitha ! Tabitha ! ” 

Tony started back. The woman laughed. 

“ Never ’e fear, my dearie. He thinks I be down the 
yard. I told un I heard some’ut at the chickens. Wait 
now — wait awhile. He’ll be snoring within the hour. 
I’ll come to the door for ’e.” 

She scurried away. 

A moment Dick lingered to see if the handsome Tony 
would obey her and wait. Tony slunk away to his horse. 
But it was only to see that the beast was firmly tethered, 
and in a moment he came creeping back to the farm. Dick 
stole off. 

There were, you see, many things which he might have 
done. What simple virtue demanded — to warn the 
wretched Hartop — was the only one which never occurred 
to him. He might, as in the morning, have waited till Tony 
had done his work, and then robbed the robber. But his 
morality boggled at that. He had, indeed, no more affec- 
tion for Mr. Hartop than for a sheep whose carcass was 
to feed him; and yet, by the thought of the old man being 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


53 

butchered to help such a girl to such a lover, he was dis- 
gusted. The creatures were nasty. 

But, if he had to meddle, he meant to help himself as 
well as damage them. And so he made for Caine at a 
run. He proposed to engage Captain Doricot in the affair. 
He wanted to know more of Captain Doricot. And even 
if there were no profit in him, it would be amusing to set 
him upon the dilapidated Tony. Dick was always liable 
to be governed by a desire for humour. 

He looked a man who could not move quickly. He al- 
ways arrived at need without haste. (These physical quali- 
ties ^ill distinguish his family.) Not much time passed 
before you see him, warm indeed, but with plenty of breath, 
"^reconnoitring the “ Bull Inn.” It was possible that Cap- 
tain Doricot, when he gave that address, had never meant 
to be found there. But if he were thus evasive, there was 
still time to get back and deal with Tony singlehanded. 

Dick liked the “ Bull’s ” kitchen. It blazed light from 
half a dozen candles, so that the shelves of crowded pewter 
flashed and shone. A gay fire crackled on the hearth, and 
from the spit which the melancholy little dog was turning a 
savoury smell spread wide. The rafters bore a notable 
harvest of hams and smoked beef and mutton, onions and 
dried herbs. Never was a place more genial to a stomach 
of large ambitions. But it held something that appealed to 
Dick’s nobler parts. 

Three or four good burgesses sat jolly over their mulled 
ale, rolling and nudging and chuckling as they listened to 
the intoxicating rhetoric of a certain shrill voice. For 
there, with the buxom, red-cheeked hostess on his knee — 
there sat Captain Doricot. Dick watched through the 
window a moment, and then stole round to the door. 

What he heard was after this fashion: 

“ Now were we close upon that land whence Dan Paris 
of Troja did steal Helena, which was the most beautiful 
woman that was ever, and lives still in Egypt, as they say. 


54 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


But that’s heathen. I ha’ seen the women of seven and 
fifty diverse nations, and kissed here and there, God wot ! 
And before them all, give me my English sweetheart, round 
and sweet as an apple.” He kissed the good hostess 
roundly, and there was laughter and the clinking of pots. 
“ The galliot came close upon us, so that we could see the 
naked slaves chained to their oars, and the boatswain wh;cfi 
walked among them and beat them. A hellish sight, be- 
ing a heathen master of Christian men. But the knave’s 
hour was at hand, for that his false prophet, Mahound, had 
tempted him to attack Nick Doricot. Whenas he sought to 
strike us amidships, I laid alongside him, and therewithal 
leaped upon his forecastle, where their fighting men are^ 
and incontinent slew their captain, which was a Bassa, and, 
as they told me, ate glass to his dinner. My good lads, 
following me, laid so about them that in a half-hour of the 
Turks no man was left, and the slaves a-wailing to us, as 
we were God’s angels. Now, look you, this galliot did stink 
so of sweet savours, that when the heat of the fight was past 
we were near fainting for too much delight of the fra- 
grance. And in her we did find an hundred and three and 
thirty bags of clove and cinnamon and ginger and pepper, 
and what was more joyous than all, in a box of sandalwood 
a purse of cloth of silver, wherein was of rubies a full 
score. Ay, as large as your eyes, sweetheart, though not 
brighter. The which brought a twenty thousand pound to 
the merchant venturers which found the money for our 
voyage. Diavolo! He ventures wisely who ventures with 
Nick Doricot. When I sail next, I wager the Toby — ” 

Dick had heard enough. He knew his man now. He 
flung open the door and slouched in and stood gaping. The 
buxom hostess laughed at him. 

“Well, my lord, what’s your will?” quoth she. 

Round her large comely shoulder appeared the lean 
brown face of Captain Doricot. His pale eyes flickered. 
Dick looked hard at him. 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


55 


‘‘ Here’s to the venture and a full hold of the spices of 
Bengala,” he drawled. And will ’e come now and cut his 
nose to shreds ? ” 

There was amazement in the kitchen. But Captain Dori- 
cot kissed the hostess blandly and set her down on her 
feet. 

“ The good booby hath an errand to me, I think.” 

He strutted across the floor, caught Dick and swung him 
round, and with a kick despatched him through the door. 

Outside in the dark Dick felt the lean hand cruel upon his 
arm. 

‘‘You spy, do you, sirrah? You listen?” said Doricot. 
“ When folks listen and spy, I am apt to make them dumb.” 

Dick chuckled. 

“ You’m a funny lad. You as would give your ears to 
know what I can tell.” 

Captain Doricot drew away from him and looked him 
up and down. 

'' Madre Dios, I begin to believe it’s a man,” quoth he. 
“ Now what is your game, my lad? ” 

“ That’s more nor I know,” Dick laughed. “ But you’m 
wasting time to fumble after me. Now, I heard you and 
Tony smugface in the alehouse. I saw him knock the old 
man over and go off with the bag for hisself. I had half 
a mind for to give the old un the truth about you, but you 
was rare good sport, and when I took un home, he had no 
more nor a mug o’ small beer for I, so I told naught. 
Then, as I was coming away from his farm I see Tony 
smugface sneaking up, and I went behind the hedge. He 
stood away off and hooted, and the old un’s niece sneaks 
out to un. She’m a bad piece. They was hugging and 
kissing and planning for to make an end o’ the old un, and 
go off together with all his moneys. She’m to let Tony 
smugface in so soon as the old un’s asleep.” He paused 
and chuckled again. “ I thought as ’twould pleasure you 
to speak a word with Tony.” 


56 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Captain Doricot left him standing alone in the yard and 
came back with a horse. 

‘‘If you would see sport now, come hold by the stirrup ! ” 
he cried. 

Dick laughed and ran. All the way Captain Doricot 
murmured to himself a gentle rhythm of strange oaths. 

Before they were near the farmhouse Dick slid his hand 
to Doricot’s thigh. 

Whoa, now — whoa ! ” said he. ‘‘ The horse will 
scare un, maybe. Bide you here, and I will go on and see 
what they be a-doing.” 

Captain Doricot drew rein. Dick stole on through the 
dark. 

The farmstead was grey in the gloom, with a glimmer of 
light from one curtained window. Where Tony had been 
lurking there was no Tony left. Dick crept to the house. 
A clattering and yell upon yell announced that Tony was 
about his business. Dick ran back to the road and whistled. 
Captain Doricot was upon him in a moment. Together 
they made for the house again, and Captain Doricot laughed 
as he came. 

The door stood open. The great kitchen was all dark 
save for a red glow from the hearth. Overhead sounded 
the noise of a scuffle and the voice of Mr. Hartop. The 
two fumbled their way to the stairs. Captain Doricot went 
up like a cat. 

The bedroom of Mr. Hartop was in much disorder. It 
seemed all sheets and blankets and wrestling and yells. A 
moment Doricot stood in the doorway, smiling upon the 
scene. One glittering candle gave it light. In the midst, 
old Hartop, ridiculous in his bed-gown, wrapped himself 
about the dilapidated Tony, gripping and clinging with arms 
and legs. Tony writhed and staggered, clutching at him, 
trying to take him by the throat. The old man was a 
heavy burden, and had a desperate strength. Tony’s drawn 
sword was caught between their limbs, impotent, or an 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


57 


equal danger to both. The old man screamed and Tony 
gasped out oaths at him. Behind them, as they reeled, mad 
in hate and fear and ludicrous, Tabitha hovered. Through 
the noise she screamed her lover’s name, and, darting in, 
plucked the dagger from his belt. She drew back. Her 
face was pale and vile with passion. She raised her hand 
to strike at the old man’s back. 

Captain Doricot strutted in, smiling. 

Fie, fie, my pretty ! ” he said, and caught her elbow in 
such a grip that she shrieked and let the dagger fall. He 
put his foot on it, and, reaching over Mr. Hartop’s shoulder, 
flicked his fingers into Tony’s eyes with a placid, ‘‘ There, 
gosling, there ! ” 

That, or the mere sight and sound of him, melted Tonyas 
strength. Tony went staggering back, and fell with Mr. 
Hartop upon him. When Tabitha would have started to 
help him, her arms were seized from behind. She looked 
round to see Dick’s heavy face grin at her. 

Captain Doricot plucked out a lace handkerchief and 
dabbed delicately at his nose. Then he strutted across to 
the heap on the floor. Mr. Hartop, while he still dug his 
nails and knees into Tony, was turning an amazed face to 
stare. Captain Doricot put his foot on Tony’s neck, and 
tapped Mr. Hartop’s quivering shoulder. 

Mine ancient,” said he, you sweat. Get you to your 
blankets. Else will an ague rob the world of your 
charms. To your blankets, go. I will look to this rat.^’ 

Tony made no move to help himself. He lay gasping, 
and looked up at Captain Doricot with the eyes of a thrashed 
cur. 

Hartop plucked his sword away from him, and with it 
helped himself to his feet. 

Murderous, thieving knave ! ” he panted, and broke out 
into a cruel laugh. ‘‘ I’ll see thee d^nce on the gallows for 
this! ” and he pricked at Tony with the sword and laughed 
again as the man writhed. Then with a snarl he swung 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


58 

round upon Tabitha, who stood quivering in Dick’s grasp. 
“ And that vile wench of thine, she shall burn ! Aye, it’s 
the fire for — ” 

Pauca verba, mine aged ! ” piped Captain Doricot’s 
shrill voice. To thy blankets, go ! These rats be in my 
trap.” 

Hartop turned about with his bed-gown fluttering. 

“ And how came you here, sir ? ” 

“ Oh, an it please you, we will be gone again, and leave 
the rats to eat you. What’s your will, senor ? ” 

‘‘ I meant no offence, sir,” Hartop cried anxiously. 

“ Then give none. Which is, being interpreted, hold 
thy peace. Now will I tie up these true lovers.” 

He stooped to take Tony’s sword-belt. 

But Dick, trusting the woman to one hand for a moment, 
plucked out his roll of whipcord and tossed it down. 

“ Trouvaille! My rustic, thou art a pearl.” In a mo- 
ment Tony was tied tight at ankle and wrist. He made no 
effort to fight. He was cowed, dazed, and could not turn 
his eyes from Doricot. But Doricot was quick and cruel 
with the cord, and laughed to himself. Good-bye to 
thee, my lad,” he said, and strutted across to Tabitha. 

At his touch she flamed out. 

“ Let me be, ye little vermin ! Ah, how durst ye mis- 
handle un so? You’m worse nor he, as you do know well. 
Oh, and you to tread on un ! ” 

“ Madame,” said Doricot gravely, “ good madame, was 
it I bade the fellow murder your uncle ? ” She quailed be- 
fore his pale, flickering eyes, and he shook his head. ‘‘ I 
do not like you, madame.” She, too, was tied up ankle 
and wrist, but he allowed her a chair. Dick pressed her 
down into it and drew back to the door. He was enjoying 
life. Doricot turned to Mr. Hartop, who, pausing often 
to look and grumble and mutter threats, had begun to 
struggle into his clothes. “ Now, mine aged, I am at leisure 
to expound.” 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


59 


‘‘ What’s that, sir ? ” said Mr. Hartop. “ If you would 
be so kind as to get to Caine and tell the constable, Robin 
Higginbottom, which lives by the church, I would thank ’e 
for it.” 

You are very generous, my friend. Without doubt, 
therefore, you yearn to reward me richly.” 

Mr. Hartop stared. 

‘‘ How you come to be always about me that’s more nor 
I know,” said he. “ But I be heartily glad you was here 
now, and if you would get to the constable, to Caine — ” 

“ You are in a hurry to be rid of me, mine aged. Almost 
it might seem that you mistrusted my company. I con- 
fess I should resent that. Or you mean not to pay me due 
recompense for salving of you. That thought distresses 
me. 

Mr. Hartop looked a sulky fear. 

“ I don’t know how you come to be here,” he muttered. 

Then Tabitha spoke. 

“ Old fool thou be ! ’Twas the little vermin as set us 
on to thee.” 

Mr. Hartop stared from one to the other. Doricot 
laughed. 

“ A venomous piece, that girl of thine, my friend. If she 
cannot stick thee, she would have thee quarrel with the man 
that saves thee.” 

“ ’Tis the little vermin hath the money that was stole 
from thee on the road,” Tabitha cried. Is’t not, Tony? 
Tony, lad, speak — speak ! ” 

“ Tony ? ” quoth Doricot, as if he heard the name for the 
first time. He strutted across the room to the prostrate 
Tony and stirred him with his foot. “ Now, Tony, my 
sweet lad, speak! Did I bid thee steal? Did I bid thee 
do murder on an old man ? ” His comical piping voice sud- 
denly acquired ferocity. ‘‘Answer me, knave!” 

But Tony answered nothing. 

Hartop, who was by now half-dressed, made a dash for 


6o 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


the door. He came upon the breadth of Dick’s hard 
bosom. Doricot hauled him back by the slack of his shirt. 

** Fie, fie ! — you neglect the decencies, mine aged. Con- 
sider — but for me you would be now upon your face, a 
dagger between your shoulders, dead as bacon. Relish 
that. Saving my presence, you are now a corpse — a 
corpse with the fiend, as you may expect, feeling for you. 
How much would you pay me to bring you back to life? 
Reckon it generously, and I protest I’ll ask no more.” Mr. 
Hartop here spluttered something. “ Hush, hush, you will 
always be talking! Now, look you, the jest is that I ask 
you nothing.” 

‘‘Then, what a plague be you saying?” cried Mr. Har- 
top. 

“We come to the marrow of the matter. Gift me no 
gifts. Stake something on my fortunes. I, Captain 
Nicholas Doricot, with a certain small fame, look you, I am 
about to sail on a venture to Tripolis, Egyptus and the 
Syrias. My ship is found and chartered. I need no more 
than a two hundred pound or three to equip me. For the 
which, as you have a mind to lend me, I accord you one 
twenty-fifth share in the venture, and promise a profit not 
less than fifty per centum. Honour of Nick Doricot ! ” 

He tapped his breast. 

“I — I — I — ” Mr. Hartop stammered, “ I lend thee a 
two hundred pound? I’ll see thee hanged first!” 

“ Nay, nay,” Doricot said sweetly, “ that is not the way 
of it. But ’tis very like I may see thee stabbed. For since 
thou hast no thanks for thy salvation, I must needs restore 
thee to perdition. Therefore, I’ll e’en cut the cords of these 
sweet children and set them at thee again, entwine thee 
desperately with monsieur, hand the dagger to madame, and 
bid good-night to Master Hartop.” 

He was smiling sweetly, but his hands clutched at the 
man and his eyes were strange. 

“Are you mad?” Hartop squealed, twisting in his grip. 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 


6i 


Sir, sir, this is no jest neither, I say. Why, ’tis foul and 
cruel, so it is. Oh, you be a lunatic — you — ” 

“ Bibble babble ! Doricot broke in. “ What ! — that 
way will not please you neither ? You prefer me to meddle ? 
You demand it? Nay, sir, but we must have justice. So 
here’s for it ! ” 

He hurled himself upon Mr. Hartop, and the two went 
down on the floor together. When Doricot rose again 
out of a storm of plaints and oaths, Mr. Hartop was bound 
as firmly as the others. Captain Doricot looked the help- 
less creatures over and shook his head. 

“ A sad scene I ” he lamented. “ Almost I despair of 
human dignity.” 

Mr. Hartop, who was purple and swollen, poured out 
a flood of threats and abuse. 

‘‘ Now cometh justice,” quoth Doricot, and enthroned 
himself on the end of the bed. “Master Hartop — you 
are proven mean in the heart. You must be taught to 
spend. Ho, rustic, feel in his pouch there ! ” Mr. Hartop 
vehemently protesting, Dick plucked out a bunch of keys. 
“ Apply them to the strong box there, good rustic.” Mr. 
Hartop lamenting, the iron-bound box, his bank, was 
opened. Doricot leaned over and drew out two of the 
leather bags which it held and solemnly counted himself 
two hundred pounds. “ Two hundred, nor less nor more,” 
said he. “ I would have given thanks for it as a loan. It 
was denied, and justice commands that it be made a fine.” 
Mr. Hartop lifted up his voice anew. “ Two hundred to 
me.” Doricot pouched the gold. “ Five pounds to my 
minister, the good rustic.” He slapped them into Dick’s 
broad palm. “Justice is satisfied.” Punctiliously he put 
the remainder back in the box. “ Down with the lid, rustic. 
Lock and restore the keys to our ancient, that he may praise 
God he fell not among thieves. So thy work is done. 
Via! Away, I need thee no more! ” Dick looked at him 
oddly and grinned and shambled out. Doricot skipped 


62 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


down from the bed. Oh, Hartop, let thy soul take heed 
to this lesson, or the deadly sin of avarice shall condemn 
thee to perdition.’’ He turned from the answering objur- 
gations to Tabitha, who wriggled on her chair and screamed 
at him. ‘‘ Madame,” he said gravely, “ you are a woman 
who have forgot that you are a woman. You must be 
taught by suffering. Farewell! Tony Dassell — you are 
a man who would cheat his friend. Therefore, you are 
no use to any man. We abandon you.” 

He strutted out and laughed as he went. 

So they three were left close bound to revile each other. 
But Tony Dassell lay silent and his face was wet with tears. 
. . . The candle sputtered and went out and darkness fell 
upon their plight. . . . And none were like to find them till 
the shepherds came to the farm on Saturday. 

If Tabitha and her uncle had not fallen to shrieking at 
each other they might have heard Captain Doricot swear 
and swear again. For when he came to the road he found 
in place of his horse the horse that had fallen with Tony. 
Dick had made the exchange, and Dick had vanished. To 
hunt him was plainly mad. Doricot’s mirth was something 
chastened as he jogged back to Caine. But he laughed still. 
Besides the humours of the good folks in the farmhouse, 
he appreciated the humour of his own case. And he ad- 
mired his rustic. 

Prudence bade him get quickly away from the neigh- 
bourhood of Mr. Hartop, but he had no mind to go with- 
out his supper. He made for the Bull.” Though the 
rest of Caine town had been some while abed, the good host- 
ess w^s waiting for him. He told her a fascinating fable 
of an accident to his friend at Avebury which must make 
him ride away to Poole that very hour to warn the poor 
lad’s wife he was a-dying. Having thus spread a neat 
fog over his intention to make for Bristol, he finished his 
supper and took a polite farewell with kisses. 


FLOATING THE VENTURE 63 

And in the yard he found two horses and Dick. He 
laughed softly. 

Now, why, my lad — why, why, why? ” 

“ I took the best horse for you to have the worse un. 
So as to make sure where you was a-going.” 

“ And why? ” 

“ For to go with you,” quoth Dick with a grin. 

‘‘ It is in my mind,” said Doricot, that if I do not kill 
you first, I may like you well.” 

Dick laughed. 

“ Dearie me, and me that's thinking the same of you ! ” 

“ So be it.” Doricot mounted. And now, my rustic, 
ril thank ye for the money that Tony stole.” 

Dick laughed again. 

“ 'Tis to go for my share in your ship.” 

You believe that there is a ship? ” Doricot grinned. 

“ Leastways, for my share in the captain,” Dick drawled. 

They jogged off very friendly into the night. 

And that is the way whereby the money was found for 
the famous voyage of the ship Tohy to the Levant seas and 
the parts of Syria, which is accounted one of the greater 
exploits of the great age of English seamen. 


CHAPTER V 

THE alderman’s DAUGHTER 

“ A NOBLE city,” said Captain Doricot simply. “ I was 
born here.” 

Dick Rymingtowne sniffed. He had a versatility in in- 
articulate sounds. They were standing at the door of the 
Blue Ball tavern, a mean house all crazy and reeling, with 
its jutting upper stories as though they would throw them- 
selves down, with its timbers eaten of worm and dry rot 
and its plaster in ragged holes. Yet there was no other 
house so well preserved or promising better living in all 
the lane. From the end of the vista, rosy sky pierced with 
masts, came a pungent quay pool smell. So for two reasons 
or more Dick Rymingtowne sniffed at the city of Bristol. 

Captain Doricot turned and looked up at him, as you may 
see a terrier meditating mischief to a cow. 

“ My clown,” quoth he, ‘‘ my ditch-born, my thistle-eater, 
you made a noise, as I think.” 

‘‘ I’ve a nose, d’ye see.” 

“ God help thee, I would be hard upon no man’s infirmity. 
But go to, I am human. Such a nose it is that if thou dost 
force it on my thought, I must needs split it from bow sprit 
to rudder head. Madre Dios, for what other end was the 
thing made ? ” 

‘‘ You’m so pleased with yourself ’tis pleasure to be with 
’e,” Dick Rymingtowne drawled through a sleepy grin. 

It is beyond doubt that Doricot’s repartee would have 
been masterly, but Providence was grudging. Two fel- 
lows, urged to the tavern door by an untimely thirst, jostled 

64 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 65 

him as his mouth opened. So that what came forth were 
Italian oaths. Therewith he knocked their heads together 
and against the door-post. Swearing less politely, they 
fell upon him. Dick Rymingtowne bent over the tumultu- 
ous, vociferous heap with large hands ready for action. In 
bulk Doricot was not much more than half either of his 
two foes. The purple and gold that covered his lean little 
body appeared through the contortions only in glimpses, like 
scraps of decoration on the sombre frieze of the heavier 
men. But the yell that rose out of the swearing and writh- 
ing was from one of them. It was one of them who cast 
himself out of the fight and lay feeling tenderly at his right 
arm, and growling : 

“ No fair hold, I say — no fair hold.” 

Then Doricot was seen kneeling on the other man’s chest, 
while his two claw hands possessed the throat and he spat 
abuse that smarted. The man’s face darkened, his strug- 
gling limbs were blind. Doricot sprang to his feet and 
laughed like an old woman, and began to flick the dust 
from him with a lace handkerchief. 

“Ye be fat knaves,” he purred. “ But for the tallow 
on you, you had made in some sort a fight. Nay, but I 
never knew a brace hold out longer against Nick Doricot. 
God’s wounds, I have a mind to you! I’ll burn a pottle 
for you. Go in ! ” 

They had come to their feet; they were making sulky 
eyes at him. He thrust them before him and hustled them 
into the tavern. Dick Rymingtowne was left scratching 
his heavy shoulder against the wall. He seemed to find 
life uninteresting. It is probable that he never had much 
taste for adventure. His ascetically practical mind from 
first to last, as I take it, judged Doricot rococo and wasteful. 

In a little while the two fellows came out again and 
rolled off in spirits. Doricot followed and cackled and 
tweaked Dick by the ear, and : 

“ Here’s two more to our ship’s company, my bully,” 


66 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


quoth he. ‘‘ And one a cooper, which I never thought to 
get for my twopence a day.” 

Dick shrugged. 

“ Cheap beasts is dear beasts. But you’m easy pleased 
seemly. Any man that you can master be man enough 
for you.” 

“And what other virtue hast thou, prithee?” Doricot 
purred. 

Before further strife there puffed up a man all paunch, 
with face like a red full moon seen through a white mist 
of beard and whiskers. 

“ I ha’ catched mun,” he panted. “ There’s a gunner for 
’e. The Genoans hath none such, no, not Johnny Dory. 
Now I’ll be after Geordy Goswen to your carpenter. 
There’s a shifty man ! ” 

Away he puffed, while Doricot cheered him on. 

“ There’s more of your dear bargains,” Dick grumbled. 
“ The gaffer was worn out while I was teething.” 

“Now rot thy marrow for a fool!” Doricot was hon- 
estly amazed. “ It’s the best mariner in England. He was 
boatswain to Sebastian Cabota.” 

“To be sure, I thought he was Noah’s.” 

Doricot cursed him awhile in gentle elaboration, and then 
came back to affairs with a : 

“ Here’s our crew coming with a fair wind. Now we 
must look for our ship.” 

Dick’s jaw dropped. 

“ What’s your will.” 

“ A ship, dolt. Didst think I had one in my holsters ? ” 

Dick shuffled his feet. 

“ You told as you had a ship found and waiting,” he said 
heavily. “ Tohy ’twas to name, and high charged. Else I 
had never give ’e my money for a share in the venture. 
You’m — ” 

“ The which pittance,” Doricot snapped his fingers at it, 
“ I have spent in luckpennies for my crew. Well, sirrah? ” 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 67 

“ You’m no honest man,” said Dick stolidly. 

“ Oh sweet, oh rare I ” Doricot struck at his ribs. 
‘‘ What’s honesty to thee or me ? What profit in an honest 
venture, sweet chuck? I begin as I would go on.” 

Dick would not be amused. 

“ You ha’ no understanding o’ me,” he drawled. Then 
the heavy face twisted. ‘‘If ’e do think to pick a quarrel 
before I can pick a bit by it, you’m lost your way.” 

Doricot cackled and swore he was a jolly caniarado, and 
went off to the quay to seek, as he said, his ship. Dick 
stayed scratching himself on the tavern door. 

Down the lane came a gallant figure, a young man lilting 
with exuberant strength and the pride of life. Yet he was 
sedately clad in black, and an earnest gravity sat heavy on 
his comely face. He looked wise beyond his years and 
proud of it. Altogether, from his well-turned legs to his 
visibly respectable soul, Dick judged him an exemplar to 
ambitious youth. But he turned into the tavern. As he 
passed he gave Dick a glance which might have been no 
more than surprise that a fellow so plainly agricultural 
should lounge in the haunts of seamen, but which had at 
best no flattery in it. Dick may have been annoyed ; or he 
may have thought that such a virtuous person would be 
useful leaven to Doricot’s battered, bibulous crew; or in 
his drowsy fashion he may have imagined a joke. What- 
ever the cause, he shuffled into the tavern and saw the good 
young man sitting at a table apart from common drinkers 
with the tapster obsequious. Dick tapped him on the shoul- 
der, and as he turned to display genially contemptuous sur- 
prise, drawled out: 

“ You’m a mariner? ” 

All the tavern stared. The good young man gave a 
laugh of condescension, and: 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

The tavern laughed with him. 

“ Be you hired ? ” quoth Dick in the manner of a farmer 


68 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

at a sheep fair. ‘‘ I’ve a good luckpenny for a willing 
lad.” 

Some of the tavern company laughed louder. There was 
an acidity in the good young man’s smile. 

‘‘ Hie away back to thy pigs, good fellow,” quoth he, and 
turned away. 

Dick tapped him on the shoulder, and when he looked 
round drawled: 

“ Pigsty to you.” 

The good young man shrugged, and : 

“ Have the fellow out, tapster ! ” he said. 

The tapster looked at Dick’s bulk, and shifted his feet 
and chose to hear the landlord calling. 

Dick sat himself down at the table, and leaned over it 
till his breath was on the good young man’s cheek. 

‘‘Would ’e have me out yourself, now?” he invited. 

The answer was a call for the landlord, and when he came 
leisurely from among the barrels behind the lead-covered 
counter : 

“ Look ye, my friend. You will have this fellow out or 
me and you will have no more at the ‘ Blue Ball.’ ” 

“ There now,” says the landlord, ‘‘ crack a quart and 
drown it.” 

“ I have spoken,” quoth the good young man. 

“ Well, to be sure! ” The landlord meditated. “ Wilful 
will to worse. For his master and he they spend like gen- 
try. And you spend naught save on victuals, which is no 
profit. So e’en good day to you. Master Brook.” 

“ Captain Brook I ” quoth the good young man haughtily 
as he rose. With contempt he looked round the tavern, 
which, indeed, but that its clients were seamen one and 
all, had no kinship with his respectability. Smelling strong 
of stale liquor, with dirty puddles in the sand of the floor, 
the plaster fallen from between the rafters, the plaster of the 
walls scrawled with crude and worse than crude devices, 
the “ Blue Ball ” made no pretence of decency. Its clients 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 69 

matched it well. Slovenly, ragged doublets, faces scarred 
and seamed and swollen, were the one fashion there. 
“ Good day to you ! ’’ said Captain Brook, counted out 
money precisely, and stalked on in dignity. But from the 
door unfortunately he recoiled in disorder. 

Through the door came a shrill Italian oath and a: 

“ Give way to thy betters, thou codshead ! ” and Doricot 
came with a swagger, the fist that had discomposed Captain 
Brook making patterns in the air. Doricot halted on tip-toe 
and sniffed at him. “ A pretty fellow, God wot ! I’ll take 
thee to my cook’s mate, dainty chops, and thou — ” 

Captain Brook muttered something, swept him aside, and 
strode out. 

‘‘ Look ye,” quoth Doricot to the tavern, “ there goes a 
quarrelsome fellow. A fellow that \vill never lie still till 
one slitteth his weasand for the sake of quiet.” 

There was laughter, and the landlord chuckled: 

“ You ha’ no luck with him, you nor your man.” 

PlaU-ilf Doricot blinked at Dick. ‘‘And what was 
your way of it, mynheer?” 

“ Nobbut asked un if a was a mariner,” Dick drawled. 

Again the tavern laughed. “ And him the youngest cap- 
tain out o’ Bristol, and the proudest by all the length of his 
long shanks.” 

“Now there’s a sin!” cried Doricot. “What hath yon 
side of beef to be proud upon?” 

“ Nay, now, nay,” the landlord protested, “ and him new 
made the master of Alderman Fry’s great ship.” 

“ Hein? ” Doricot cocked a meditative eye. “ God help 
us, God help us — a mad world 1 That mother’s darling to 
be master in a great ship! Why, no wonder he is beside 
himself ! ” 

And yet again there was laughter, but the landlord 
shrugged : 

“ Nay, fair‘s fair. Charley Brook be no use to me, nor 
any man that makes his living out o’ liquor. But it’s a 


70 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


good seaman, my lad, and never wronged man nor woman 
neither. I wish ye all as honest.” 

“ Now, from all honest men and holy women, good Lord 
deliver us ! ” quoth Doricot. 

A voice piped out above the alcoholic laughter: 

‘‘ Charley’s none so vartuous. He can play St. John’s 
night with a girl, I warrant him ! ” 

Doricot started round. 

“ What, d’ye tell me the fellow is a man ? Who is the 
fool of a woman, then ? ” 

Dick’s sleepy eyes stared hard. He did not understand 
the pertinacious interest of Doricot in Captain Brook. 

The owner of the piping voice, a lad with an old man’s 
face, chuckled villainously. 

‘‘ Why, ’tis Alderman Fry’s red daughter Kate. A 
gloomy piece, to my thinking. But Charley hath been hand 
and glove with her this year agone. The old alderman had 
to hear naught of it, being so rich and proud and all. So 
they’ve a-kissed in the dark. But I’ve bore their tokens 
many a time.” 

“Women! Women!” Doricot rebuked the sex. “Ye 
were made to set fools o’ horseback. So mistress Kate hath 
beguiled her father to give his argosy to this saintly lub- 
ber?” 

The lad laughed, and the landlord : 

“ You dunno Alderman Fry. He’d give ne’er a groat 
to any man, no not for his daughter, nor her mother neither, 
without he made sure to get two back. Nay, Charley 
Brook stands on his own legs. The alderman reckons him 
a safe man. And there’s not so many, saving your pres- 
ence.” 

Doricot spat. 

“ I detest the tribe ! ” 

The lad took up the tale. 

“ Why, the old man dunno as they be courting. They 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 


71 

was never to tell till Charley had a ship. The old un be 
that lofty. ’Tis why Charley paid me not to blab.” 

“Trusty fellow!” quoth Doricot. “But go to, I am 
weary of your Brook. ’Tis a vile liquor, water. Bring me 
a pint of sack.” 

Over it he relapsed into silence, a thing so rare in him 
that Dick stared the harder. When he rose and strutted 
out, Dick followed him. 

Doricot heard behind him the shuffle over the kidney 
stones, and turned with a grin, and a: 

“ What’s your will, my innocent? ” 

“To know yourn.” . 

Doricot grinned more widely. 

“ Go before, sirrah. Find me the way to master alder- 
man’s.” 

“ Why, you’d never part true lovers, surely ? ” Dick 
chuckled. 

“ Sirrah, I would part the devil from hell if I needed it.” 

Dick gaped. 

“ Aw, that’s terrible fine ; but it don’t mean so much to my 
thinking. But that’s like yourself to be sure.” 

The alderman lived in a street of magnificence. Each 
of the tall houses, glossy with white plaster and black oak 
suggested permanent wealth and importance, but his was the 
largest, the most elaborately windowed, the most decorated 
with carving and paint. Doricot sucked in his lips. 

“ Here should be a turkey worth roasting,” quoth he. 
“ Go to, knock. Nay, not so meekly, lubber. With a fan- 
dango and a thunderbolt, thus.” 

The performance was hardly finished when the door flew 
open and Captain Brook rushed upon them. He thrust 
Doricot aside and stamped off. His respectable face was 
dark, and he breathed hard. Doricot cackled. 

“ Look you, what an ox is a man in love ! The poor 
beast asks to be made steaks for his betters.” 


72 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

He repeated with his sword-hilt the fandango and the 
thunderbolt. 

The answer came in the shape of a scurrying maid, who 
cried out : 

Give us grace, give us grace ! What’s the matter ? ” 

Captain Nicholas Doricot out of Tripolis, the ports of 
yEgyptus and Syria. Lead me to the alderman,” said Dori- 
cot. 

He moved his sword in the scabbard and thrust it home 
again, whirled the cloak of purple and gold, and struck an 
attitude. 

The maid bobbed a frightened curtsy and fled. Doricot 
followed close on her heels, and Dick on his. So that when 
she tapped on a door from behind which came stormy voices 
and, getting no answer, opened it, they saw the alderman 
starting from his chair to aim a blow at his daughter’s ears. 
It went home, and she reeled, and then, staying herself by 
the arras, tense with passion, she gazed at her father, cheeks 
and eyes and bosom telling one tale of hate. 

Doricot strutted in daintily and sat himself down. 

At your leisure, at your leisure.” He waved his hand. 

La parole est a mademoiselle, je croisf* 

The alderman, with the aid of the devil’s name, asked 
who he was. 

“Nay, let my affair wait,” quoth Doricot handsomely; 
“ mademoiselle is impatient.” 

The alderman rushed at his daughter and caught at her 
wrist and dragged her out. Dick stared heavily after them. 
The alderman was opulently built, with a wide and shiny 
face, bald at the brow, which glowed crimson. It was his 
mouth which distinguished him, a mouth of great extent, 
with straight lips opening square. The reddish beard and 
moustachios were too closely cut to hide it. His daughter, 
too, had some red in her hair, some hint, for all her youth, 
of his solidity, something of his development of jaw. But 
in her it was all softened and refined by more than sex or 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 73 

youth. Other blood than his had made her skin olive, her 
hair the darkest of russet and her eyes. 

‘‘ There’s a brave minx,” Doricot piped. “ Damme, it 
warms my heart to cross her.” 

Dick gaped at him and leaned a shoulder against the door, 
all heavy, indolent stupidity. But his ear was close to the 
crack of the door. Doricot began to patter round the room, 
peering with sudden short glimpses like a bird at papers 
and coffers and books and making birdish sounds as he 
peered. From the depths of the house door banging and 
the boom of the alderman’s voice was heard. Doricot was 
down in his chair again, cackling to himself and sniffling, 
before the alderman’s emphatic feet came back. Other feet 
followed them and a rustle of skirts, and Dick’s ear at the 
door heard a woman breathless: 

‘‘ Mr. Fry, what have you done by her? ” 

“ Set her where she may cool her wanton blood, mistress. 
Go to, you shall not come to her neither. And if she be not 
wiser by the morning my Indian cane shall school her sides.” 

Ha ! ” Doricot heard the alderman’s roar, though he 
had missed the question. *‘To whom doth he prophesy?” 

Dick shook a listless head, which had divined for itself 
that the woman was the mother. He heard her again. 

‘‘ Nay, prithee let me speak with her. She — ” 

“ She speaks with none but me, mistress. What ! Have 
I forgot? You were malapert as she till I schooled you. 
Get you gone. Go in, I say, go in ! ” 

There was some sound of movement, and then a stifled 
cry, and a laugh from the alderman. In a moment he en- 
tered, his large crimson face horribly discordant with its 
red beard. Doricot laughed his old woman’s laugh : 

‘‘ Take breath, take breath.” 

‘‘ Who sent thee here ? ” 

‘‘ My good will to thee.” Doricot stood up. “ You meet 
Captain Nicholas Doricot from Tripolis, .Egyptus, and the 
ports of Syria.” 


74 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


'' I can find me a score such on the quay. Away with 
thee! I’ve naught for broken men.” 

Doricot began to laugh. 

There spoke a fool. Look thee, sirrah fool, if we join 
hands for my venture, I can put five hundred pounds to it.” 

The alderman was plainly startled. But he laughed con- 
tempt. 

“ Five hundred pounds of wind.” 

Doricot flourished out a leather bag. 

“ You can count if we close.” 

“ Be sure I shall,” the alderman snapped, and then hesi- 
tated. 

“ Speak out. What is the venture ? ” 

Doricot laughed. 

Hark ’e, my ruddy friend, I trust thee no more than I 
trust a horsefly. If I speak thee frankly, ’tis because I am 
well assured that none but Nick Doricot can venture my 
venture.” 

” I look for naught of thy speech or thy venture,” the 
alderman sneered. “ Speak or begone, all’s one.” 

After which compliments they stared at each other and 
seemed far better friends. 

Now, master alderman. I take thee wise enough to 
know that for all the Portugals have found their way at sea 
by Bona Speranza, the most and the best of the spices of 
the Indies do come to us still overland to ^gyptus and the 
Syrias.” 

“ My prentice lads know so much.” 

Bien! On my last voyage, putting into Malta after 
lemons for the scurvy, there lay a galley out of Alexandria 
changing prisoners from the Knights of St. John. We did 
some traffic of soap and nails with the infidels, and their 
captain coming aboard us, I found him a renegade, an 
Englishman out of Watchet, that was carpenter aboard my 
first ship. Peter Drew is his name, who hath called him- 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 


75 


self Achmet Bey in their jargon. He was took with the 
Jenny out of Barnstaple, off the Morea. A jolly fellow, 
but it was a skill in corncutting (natural to his trade) that 
saved his throat and after delivered him from the prisons. 
Now he is high among their captains. We two, then, com- 
pounded together that I should voyage this summer to 
Alexandria for a cargo of spices. For I may pay him 
a better price than they get from the Genoans or the Vene- 
tians (which be no better than leeches), and yet make a 
great profit. I appointed him time and place for his gal- 
ley in a desolate haven of ^gyptus. I have a five hundred 
pound for the voyage, and there lacks me only a ship. 
How say you?” 

The alderman sneered. 

“ A ship to sail after a fairy tale ! ” 

Doricot sprang up. 

** En avant, Diccon. We have mistook. ’Tis no mer- 
chant, but a pedlar.” 

The alderman bade him wait, but Doricot swept on and 
out. When they were well away he began to cackle gently 
to himself. Dick plodded on heavily. Doricot slapped 
him on the shoulder. 

‘‘ The gudgeon nibbles, lad.” 

“ Fve no liking for he,” quoth Dick. ‘‘ Tve a mind to 
go tell Master Brook his maid’s locked in the cellar.” 

Doricot checked, his claw hand on Dick’s arm; but then 
he began to cackle again, and: 

‘‘ Good child,” quoth he, go and play.” 

With long silent strides the hulking form went away 
from him through the twilight. And Captain Doricot, it 
may surprise you to hear, then set himself to make up his 
crew with a fiery zeal that demanded he should lack no 
man by dawn. 

Dick’s work was more romantic. A question or so at 
the ‘‘ Blue Ball ” and on the quay discovered for him 
Brook’s new lodging. There he found the good young 


76 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


man in darkness material and ideal. Dick asked for a 
candle and when it came grinned broadly at his melan- 
choly. 

‘‘ You ! Brook’s surprise was dreary. ‘‘ What do you 
want of me?” 

‘‘ I ha’ seen your maid. She’m a lusty piece. Give ’e 
good will. But you did ought to know as her old father 
hath beat her and locked her in the cellar, and means to 
go beat her again o’ morning unless she’ll swear to have 
no more of ’e. I heard un threatening when we was there 
about our matters. ’Twas your right for to know, being 
an unclean business to a loving man.” 

Brook stared, stumbled to his feet, and rushed out. 
Dick shrugged. He conceived the situation beyond 
Brook’s grasp. Brook should have asked for help. 
Nevertheless, a curiosity as to the ways of other men with 
maids, which seems to have left him never, took him tc 
see how Brook would fare. There was not much to see. 
Brook came to the stately house and knocked, and thrust 
himself past the answering servant before she could say 
him nay. In a little while the calm of the night was dis- 
turbed by angry voices — Captain Brook passionate, the 
alderman menacing and brutal. A little longer and the 
voices were shouting, the door opened again to show a 
struggle, and Captain Brook, propelled by the alderman’s 
prentices and serving men, was hurled out. Before he 
had picked himself up the door was banged and barred. 
He could think of nothing better to do than pick his hat 
out of the kennel and slink away. 

At this moment, as I take it, Dick’s contempt for him 
was overwhelming, but it begat no favour for the alderman. 
On the contrary, chastisement for the alderman appeared 
a duty demanded by the righteous scheme of things. Dick 
lounged along Maryport Street, and where he found the 
kidney stones loose he pouched them. Coming again to 
the corner by the alderman’s house, he tried the big stones 


THE ALDERMAN’S DAUGHTER 77 

set to keep cart-wheels from the wall, found one give, and 
marched off with it and set it down by the alderman’s back 
door. Then he slouched round the corner again, and with 
speed the kidney stones found each a billet in a different 
window. There was a very volley of shattering glass. 
Before the assaulted household rushed out he had retired 
easily from his strategic position at the corner to another 
street. While prentices and serving men ranged this way 
and that, he picked up his big stone and hurled it at the 
back door. A panel gave before it, and a hinge with a 
hoarse shriek of rent timber, which brought answering 
shouts, Then at last Dick raa 


CHAPTER VI 

THE alderman’s VOYAGE 

In the Blue Ball Dick found his little captain talking to 
half a dozen tarry men while he supped off herrings and 
mulled ale. The half-dozen were enlisted in as many min- 
utes and bidden be ready to sail at dawn. Then Doricot 
turned to Dick and heard his tale of Brook’s disaster and 
the bombardment, and cackled continuously. 

“ I thought it would keep un good and wakeful,” Dick 
explained. 

“ You think more than you look, my lad,” quoth Doricot, 
looking at him keenly. “ It might make the sehor believe 
that our Brook had a party to help him.” 

“ Aw now,” Dick gaped. You’m so sharp in your 
wits.” 

Doricot pinched his ear and cackled, and ordered ale for 
him, and a rasher. 

In the morning early a letter came for Doricot that bade 
him go hastily to the alderman, who had thought of his 
venture, and would speak of it again. Doricot slapped 
the paper. 

“ Our gudgeon hath bitten,” quoth he. “ Come, my 
bully ! ” and off they went. 

The wealthy house had an air of dissipation. In day- 
light the broken windows became exaggerated. Folks 
loitered and gazed and gaped. A sturdy porter opened 
in the maid-servant’s stead, and shut it again sharply. 
The alderman was waiting for Captain Doricot. 

‘‘ I commend him,” quoth Doricot. 

78 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 


79 

The alderman awaited them in a severe little room amid 
papers, and was very much the merchant. 

A good morning, Captain ! I thank you for your speedy 
coming.’’ The alderman coughed and looked at Dick. 
“ Do we need the lad. Captain Doricot ? ” 

Quoit ■” Doricot started. “ I have no secrets, aider- 
man.” 

‘‘ Why, I mean what is he ? ” 

“ If I knew that, I might cut his throat. It’s either more 
a fool than I want or more a knave than I can use.” 

The alderman showed no satisfaction. 

‘‘Is he your friend or your servant, sir?” 

“ Neither, I thank God.” 

“ We might be better without him,” the alderman sug- 
gested through amazement. 

“ At your pleasure,” Doricot shrugged. “ He will hear 
as much one side the door as the other.” 

The alderman made signs of despair. 

“ Then you two are one? ” 

“ As much as St. George and the dragon. But I take 
it that you have some desperate iniquity in hand?” 

“Fie, sir!” the alderman laughed. “You mock me. 
It’s no more than your own venture.” He paused. 
“ Which I’ll not hide from you hath, after thought, liked 
me better than I would hastily allow. You know the Le- 
vant, Captain Doricot?” 

Doricot snapped his fingers. 

“ From Jaffa to Cavo Mattapan, from Constantinople 
to Alexandria of ^Egyptus, as I know Avon mud, or Barn- 
staple bar, or Sutton pool.” 

The alderman coughed and became more geographical, 
but Doricot overwhelmed him with geography. He tried 
to assert himself. 

“ Now, as touching seamanship — ” 

In the sputter of an Italian oath Doricot turned upon 
Dick : 


8o 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


My Achates, I have lived to hear a fat pedlar call me 
lubber. I have lived too long, or he hath.” He approached 
the alderman menacing. “ My penny-wise, have your long 
ears heard tell of old Will Gunson?” 

The alderman bowed before the name, the name of one 
who had been paymaster of the King’s navy, and sent a 
famous voyage to Crete. Doricot flourished out a parch- 
ment with Gunson’s superscription. 

“ This is very good.” The alderman hardly restrained 
himself from geniality. “ Now, sir, of this venture of 
yours, what do you hope ? ” 

“ Pardieu, sweet oils and cotton wools, pepper and cinna- 
mon and galls and other spices, enough to freight a ship 
of three hundred tons burden.” 

‘‘ Say you so ? And you will adventure a five hundred 
pounds upon the voyage ? ” 

“ Give me a great ship well found and freighted, and 
I will pay you five hundred pound, and of all the profits 
of the venture one-fourth shall be yours and three- fourths 
mine.” 

‘‘ It is a poor pittance,” said the alderman pensively. 
“What commodities do you seek for your freight?” 

“ As I told you, soap and nails ; which are naught to us 
here, but most precious to the infidels. So that we get, 
like Diomedes, armour of gold for armour of bronze. 
You may also provide me a parcel of calf skins.” 

“ It is a poor pittance,” the alderman repeated. “ But 
there’s good service you could do me.” 

“ Shall I marry your daughter, senor ? ” 

The alderman flushed. 

“ Prithee, let my daughter’s name be. If I give you 
ship of mine, sir, there’s a fellow I would have you take 
with you.” 

Doricot looked at him with narrowing eyes. 

“ Ay, Bristol folk have been blithe kidnappers this thou- 
sand year. Well, what’s this piece of man’s flesh?” 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 8i 

Sir, it’s an insolent, masterless man ; one Brook, a fel- 
low I have made out of nothing, which besets me, ay, sir, 
with wanton violence. I would have you get him aboard 
with you.” 

And ? ” Doricot sneered. ‘‘ And ? ” 

‘‘ And leave him far enough from me and mine.” 

‘‘With the Turks or the sharks? What matter to a 
godly alderman! So be it. Write off Master Brook. 
Where’s the ship?” 

The alderman laughed. 

“ You are a quick man. Captain Doricot. Understand 
me, I want no noise of this about the town.” 

“ Now that’s godly,” quoth Doricot. 

So it was settled. The alderman became almost jovial 
about the details. He had perhaps not hoped that the ven- 
ture would discover such sober plans behind its queer 
scheme when he determined that Doricot would serve to 
rid him of Captain Brook. A piratical fellow who could 
be reasonably commercial was a discovery that exalted his 
spirits. He grew as eager to plan the voyage and the 
trading as to get Brook under hatches. 

There was a ship provisioned and watered and ready to 
sail, the ship of which Brook himself should have been 
master. She had no cargo aboard, for she was meant to 
go round to Plymouth in ballast and fill her hold with Tavis- 
tock kersies. So it would be easy to furnish her swiftly 
with the soap and nails for Doricot’s venture. The aider- 
man boasted that he would have all ready in three days. 
But he was anxious to get Brook out of his way still sooner. 
Could Doricot find his own crew? Doricot swore to find 
crew enough for Master Brook in an hour. He would 
see the ship, and if she liked him he would engage to have 
Master Brook aboard her in the bilboes that night. The 
alderman chuckled and then thought of caution. 

“ You must needs take him warily. I doubt he hath 
some sturdy friends.” 


82 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ I also, monsieur,’’ quoth Doricot, and looked at the 
alderman queerly. ‘‘ Fear not. He shall go aboard as 
quietly as the sun sets. Much about the same time.” 

“ After all,” said the alderman, “ he hath none of note 
to stand by him in Bristol, being a Bridgewater man. So 
there will be none to seek him.” 

God help whosoever comes a-seeking aboard my ship,” 
quoth Doricot. 

“ I will come aboard after nightfall,” said the alderman, 
“ and see that you have him safe. Then we can draw out 
the order for your freight and the voyage.” 

“We will take right good order, mynheer,” quoth Dori- 
cot. 

“ Now I will give you warrant for the ship-keepers, and 
one of my lads shall go with you.” 

“ S'il vous plait , quoth Doricot. 

So Dick and he went aboard the Toby, You must not 
imagine her beautiful. She was short and she was wide. 
If you can conceive a barge with wooden castles at bow 
and stern you will have some notion of her lines. But 
Doricot smacked his lips over her and bade Dick away to 
the “ Blue Ball ” to bring boatswain and crew. You see 
them coming over the side, a tattered, hard-worn company. 
As he lounged on the poop by Doricot, Dick sniffed at them 
loudly, and: 

“ Here be scarecrows enough for a county,” quoth he, 
and waited an answer. 

But Doricot’s eyes were gazing away and ahead. It is 
possible that Dick was not ill-satisfied. The line of Dor- 
icot’s vision led straight to a brace of long guns in the 
waist of the ship. She was, for her kind, well armed. 

Now, the alderman was impatient. The alderman had 
a wife and his daughter a mother. Whereby the affair was 
complicated. Impatient to see the detested Brook in irons, 
he could not wait for dark. As soon as the sun was down 
he went hurrying to the quay. For a night and a day his 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 83 

daughter, locked contumacious in the dark, had been given 
nothing better than bread and water. He was hardly out 
of the house before her mother grasped at the chance to 
spread her a richer meal. Laden with tearful sentiment 
and baked meats, the mother opened the cellar door. She 
had but just set down her tray, she had only begun to pour 
forth her sympathy, when the passionate daughter, with- 
out one filial word, thrust her affections aside and flung 
open the door and darted out. Before the mother had be- 
come able to understand that anything had happened, the 
daughter was in the street and a hundred yards away. 

Of course, she sought her lover. In a tumult of exulta- 
tion and half-gratified anger and eager passion she made 
for the Blue Ball.’' You know why Brook was not there. 
Its landlord grinned interest from ear to ear as he told her 
where to find him. And so, in the darkest twilight, at the 
hour when all honest folks were at supper, she came to 
Brook’s lodging and his arms. 

Some time before, the alderman had gone aboard his 
ship and found Doricot dreaming over the flood tide. 

'‘Well, sir — well, what’s done?” he cried. 

Doricot woke with a start, and stared at him as if he 
were a miracle, and at last began to grin. 

“ You are a cock that crows at midnight,” quoth he, and 
strutted away. He spoke briefly with his fat red boat- 
swain, who went forward for a half-dozen men, and he 
turned to Dick. “ Here’s for you, my lad. See they get 
mynheer out of the house daintily, and Antony will answer 
for the rest. But he’ll take orders from you. No noise 
about it, or we are fast aground. But it’s business you 
were made for.” 

“ Thank ’e for naught,” said Dick, but he dropped into 
the boat, where they had a parcel of small cords and a 
sail and a wad of oakum. 

So he came with his company to Brook’s lodging. He 
chuckled to see light in it, and : 


84 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Bide you here,” quoth he to the boatswain, and if a 
will come out quietly, do ’e take mun as a comes. And if 
a will not be a good fellow, I’ll whistle to ’e fpr to come 

The boatswain drew his men on either side the door. 

Dick went in as quiet as a cat and asked no one’s leave 
to open the door on Captain Brook, who was thereby dis- 
covered with Kate Fry on his knee. Which of the three 
was most amazed you may hardly guess. Which was most 
amused there is no doubt, for when Dick, with a great 
chuckle, said: ‘‘Give ’e joy and give me leave. There’s 
a good fellow below stairs, a merchant out o’ Plymouth, 
wants speech of ’e, and I would not bring him up with 
mistress here,” Brook scowled at him, and Kate with her 
face all crimson stared wonder and fear, and clutched at 
her man. “ Will ’e come down now ? ” Dick entreated. 
“ I think a hath some business for ’e, having come by 
Bridgewater.” 

Captain Brook, was visibly torn between disgust and dis- 
trust and surprise. 

“ I know no man to Plymouth,” he muttered. 

“ Nor do I, to be sure,” said Dick cheerily. 

Brook frowned amazement and hesitated, and made a 
step forward. The woman clung more closely. “ I’ll not 
go down,” he cried. “ Who is he ? ” 

Dick shrugged his shoulders and whistled. Then he 
laughed. “ Why, look ’e, he do know that, not I.” 

Feet came up the stair. 

Brook started forward and came upon the bulk of An- 
tony, the boatswain. 

“ What’s your errand ? ” he cried, recoiling. 

A great arm wrapped him round tenderly. A mouthful 
of oakum was thrust upon him. He was swept off his feet. 
He had hardly begun to plunge and writhe before alert 
hands had cords all about him. Like a plank, and as im- 
potent, he was passed from hand to hand down the stair. 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 


85 


As the woman saw, Dick clapped his hat over her mouth 
and held her. She thrust at him and struggled fiercely, 
and struck and writhed to win her head free and scream. 
“ Oh, be easy,” said Dick. Never beat a willing horse, 
my dear.” 

The boatswain caught her wrists. “ Nay, you’m 
naughty,” said he. ‘'What’s to do, my son?” 

“Why, would ’e part a lass from her man?” Dick 
chuckled. 

“ I do allow she’m asking to be took.” The boatswain 
scratched his bald head; then he, too, chuckled. “’Twill 
be pretty to hear the captain swear.” So they tied her up 
in the sail and carried her out. 

Dick lingered to look round the room for anything worth 
taking. Whereby he was some little after the others, and 
though they had been most seaman-like quiet about their 
business, was nearly in trouble. For as he went down the 
stairs he met the mistress of the house, who, having eaten 
her own supper, was coming to clear away Brook’s. 
“ Servant, sir,” says she, and plainly wanted to know what 
he was doing. 

Dick nodded. 

“ Captain Brook hath just took his lass to see some friends 
out of Bridgewater, aboard the Mary Ann” And with a 
quiet conscience he went his way. 

To a friend who, most unfriendly, recognised him in 
spite of the dark, the boatswain grumbled against lubbers 
who drank themselves silly and had to be carried aboard. 
So easily they came to their boat. 

If they had been longer about it, Doricot complained 
afterwards, the alderman would have done with the world 
that night. For the latter made himself abominable with 
nervous iteration of fear that everything had gone wrong. 
When oars were heard through the dark, when the boat 
came alongside, he was all but into the river with peering 
at her. He was thrust aside without mercy, and by dim 


86 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

lantern light they made fast and the boatswain heaved him- 
self aboard. 

“Have you done your business?” quoth Doricot. 

“Ye will say so,” the boatswain chuckled, and Dick came 
aboard. 

Doricot clapped him on the shoulder with a “ Good 
boy ! ” and he grinned, and the two dumb bodies were 
hauled on deck. 

“ Go ties teufels hdile! ” Doricot cried. “ Two ! Two I 
Viejo diablo da — Give me light, I say!” He tore the 
sail from the woman, he snatched at a lantern and thrust 
it at her face. Then with a cackling laugh he stood up 
straight and clutched at Dick. “ My sweet babe ! ” he said. 

The alderman thrust through the crew and all but fell as 
he peered down, and then screamed out, half-articulate: 

“ Shameless baggage ! Ah, you blundering fools, that 
you are! And you — ” 

'' Doucement! Doucement!^' Doricot slapped at his 
mouth, and he spluttered and struck the hand away, swear- 
ing. It closed on his shoulder. 

He bent over the two who lay there helpless, bewildered, 
yet fierce-eyed. 

“ Ah, you baggage, your sides shall be sore for this ! 
You—” 

'' Madre DiosV' Doricot cried. “You have no va- 
riety!” He jerked the alderman back as he kicked the 
legs from under him. “ Have him and the other man in 
the bilboes. The woman to the spare cabin. What, lively, 
I say!” 

So the alderman found himself chained up in the dark 
with the man he had plotted to chain. What they said to 
each other is no matter for this decent tale. And to them 
and the dazed woman alone in the cabin came the call of 
the boatswain’s pipe and the groaning of capstan and cable. 
Out with the ebb the Toby sailed away from Bristol town. 

Twenty- four hours the prisoners lay in their quarters, 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 87 

punctiliously provided with prisoners’ fare, for each two- 
thirds a seaman’s ration of beer and bread and salt horse. 
It appears that they ate little. The ship was running into 
a golden sunset with the swell of the cliffs to port all a 
red glow, when Doricot, who had conned all day like a 
man in a trance, condescended to wake and speak. 

Have all the pretty birds to my cabin, my lad,” said he 
to Dick at his elbow. 

‘‘ What’s to do ? ” Dick drawled, who was something 
dispirited by the ship’s pitching. 

Quien sabef Who knows, my innocent ? ” Doricot 
cackled. 

In the great cabin Doricot lounged at his ease, his small 
legs spread over a bench of cushions. There two seamen 
brought him Kate Fry, and he rose and waved them away 
and bowed to her. 

‘‘ What do you want of me?” she cried. 

‘‘You allow me to be frank? Then I profess I never 
saw a woman of your years whom I wanted so little.” He 
sat down again and reflected that the cabin’s green paint 
was hard upon her. For she was very pale. 

“ What do you mean to do with us? ” 

“ That, madonna, is what I am trying to find out.” 

Before she could make anything of that Dick led in the 
alderman and Captain Brook, dirty, dishevelled, and weary 
both. The alderman barked out : 

“You lying scoundrel!” and seemed to expect Doricot 
to fall down before him. 

Doricot waved a hand. 

“ Come, my friends, let us understand ourselves. It 
was convenient to me to take you. But you are now no 
more use. If I let you go, what will you do for me?” 

One and all they appeared to think him impudent. The 
alderman broke out: 

“ I’ll have thee hanged for a pirate if there’s law in Eng- 
land,” 


88 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Doricot cackled a little. 

“ Monsignor, if that’s your mind, go on deck and take 
a look at English land. For thou’llt never see it again.” 

‘‘What, sirrah?” the alderman started up. “Would 
you murder me ? ” 

“ Nay, that were waste. There’s many a port in Bar- 
bary where a good fat fellow like thee will fetch a price. 
Nay, you shall fare no worse than you designed for Master 
Brook. It’s a manly life, as they say, in the Moorish gal- 
leys.” 

The alderman collapsed, while his daughter and Brook 
glared at him. 

“ Fine fortune you ha’ made for us all by your plots with 
this knave,” quoth Brook. 

“ Fie, fie ! ” Doricot protested. “ The godly fellow hath 
made himself a sweetly just end.” 

“ This is mad,” the alderman panted feebly. “ You 
could not play such a trick, sir. There be too many to 
miss me.” 

“ They could seek thee in the galleys.” 

“ Sail back to Bristol and I’ll hold thee scathless. I’ll 
call it a jest.” 

Doricot laughed aloud. 

“ That were a jest indeed. The ship is mine now, sehor, 
and I would ha’ gone through hell to get her.” 

The alderman seemed to shrink. 

“ Put me ashore, at least,” he wailed. “ What ill have 
I done you? My God, is it not enough that you rob me 
of my best ship? Put me ashore! ” 

“Will you buy yourself? The Moors would buy you. 
Are you worth a bill for five hundred pound? ” 

The alderman seemed to diminish again. 

“ You shall have it,” he gasped. 

“And as much more for your daughter,” said Doricot 
carelessly. 


THE ALDERMAN’S VOYAGE 89 

But the alderman flushed again, and started forward and 
snarled : 

“ Not a penny. She hath made her bed. Let her lie on 
it.’’ 

Doricot shrugged his shoulders. 

''Dixit/' quoth he. ‘‘She may go to Algiers for him.” 
And he turned to Brook. “ Well, my lord, and what will 
you bid for yourself?” 

“ You are a vile, treacherous knave,” said Brook stub- 
bornly. “ I’ll make no bargain with you. You can do 
your worst upon me, and I trust in God to see you pun- 
ished.” 

“ Fie, fie, you are not kind ! ” Doricot complained. 
“ Come, I’ll not deal hard with you. What will you give 
to be free with her? ” 

“ I’ll make no bargain with you,” Brook cried. “ I pray 
God to call you to account.” 

“ These saints ! ” Doricot shrugged and turned to the 
woman. “ Prithee bring him to his senses, mistress.” 

“ I would hate him if he yielded to you I ” she cried 
fiercely. 

Then Doricot gave a great laugh and sprang out of the 
cabin, crying as he went: 

“ Back the foresail ! Lower the cockboat ! ” And from 
the deck he shouted to his prisoners : “ Come up and I 

will show you a thing.” 

When they came, something dazed, the ship lay hove to 
and a boat was under her port quarter. To Brook and the 
woman Doricot make a magnificent bow. 

“ Monsieur et madame, you have spirit and (who 
knows?) perhaps your children may have brains. There 
is your boat, and there is Lynmouth beach. Give you good 
night.” Half by force, for they were halting and dumb 
with amazement, he had them overside. The alderman 
made to follow them. “ Cast off ! ” Doricot cried. “ Fore- 
sail halyards ! ” The ship began to slip through the water 


90 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


again. He embraced the alderman. Mynheer, you go 
a voyage with me.’’ 

The alderman gave a wild cry, and rushed to the bul- 
warks and gazed desperately at the boat, at the red cliffs 
beyond. But already the boat was far away. He turned 
trembling. 

'‘What is it? What do you mean?” 

" To teach you,” quoth Doricot, " to traffic in man’s 
flesh.” 

“ Do you mean to make a slave of me ? ” 

" No, senor, to make you a free man : to deliver you 
from the bondage of filthy lucre and cold honesty. Get 
forward. Give him a swab.” 

Into the forecastle the alderman, urgently protestant, 
was hustled and set to swab it out. He jibbed and the 
boatswain corrected him with a cane. He showed fight and 
spent the next watch tied to the foremast with his swab 
and his full bucket about his neck. So he began his voy- 
age. So began the famous voyage of the Toby. 

But in the sternwalk Dick’s practical mind was com- 
plaining. 

" ’Tis all mighty pretty, to be sure. But you ha’ got 
no cargo after all.” 

" I never wanted any,” Doriqot cackled. 


CHAPTER VII 
doricot’s quest 

It is to be regretted that among the many matters which 
Richard Rymingtowne left on record in his papers at As- 
synton — he was a neat and methodical man — there is not 
to be found his opinion of Captain Doricot. That he knew 
himself much better adapted for success in this world than 
Doricot is obvious. I make no doubt that he thought 
Doricot foolishly fantastic, dangerously weak. Which is 
natural, for more than once Doricot was nearly the end of 
him. Yet there are some signs that his passionately prac- 
tical mind admired Doricot more than any other man. I 
cannot wholly account for this by recalling that it was 
Doricot who taught him seamanship. 

In that matter, at least, Doricot was thorough. Prob- 
ably he found some amusement in making a fellow so pleased 
with himself as Dick Rymingtowne understand how little 
he knew. Not only Doricot and the boatswain and the 
gunner wrought with him, but he was given to the yonkers 
to take aloft — he was sick for the first time in his life 
in the maintop ; and to the swabbers to take below — in 
the stenches of the orlop he was sick for the last time in 
his life. 

They made a good run from Bristol to Cadiz, for it took 
them less than three weeks. At the end of that time Dick 
was confident that he had no more to learn about ships or 
the sea. Thence they spent ten days in coming to Majorca. 
Doricot had no intention of going there, but the winds were 
contrary, and the Toby, like other ships of her day, would 

91 


92 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


not work to windward handily. At the end of those ten 
days Dick was in a state of grace, convinced that of sea 
and ship he knew nothing. After a week waiting for a 
fair wind at Majorca, where they were all very ill of drink- 
ing the wine of the country, the Toby sailed for the African 
coast and her proper business. 

They were off Tripoli when the wind went round to the 
east again. While they beat to and fro, out of the east 
came another ship. She was a big thing. The castles at 
her bow and stern towered vastly higher than the Toby's. 
As she ran before the wind she was pitching wildly. At 
first Doricot turned up his nose at her. 

“ Spaniard,” quoth he. Look you, Diccon, the tub’s a 
floating sermon against pride. She’s as top-heavy as the 
stiff Don Dismallos themselves.” 

Then he whistled between his teeth and took a step for- 
ward. Staring with puckered eyes through the glittering 
air he saw a flutter of green and silver at the mastheads, 
and then blazoned all across the square sails the crescent 
of Mahomet and Turk and Moor. He said nothing for a 
while, but stared still at the towering, labouring ship, and 
licked his lips. 

Till the end, I suppose, that first sea-fight was vivid in 
Dick’s mind. It was the exemplar of many another. It 
was as brilliant as the scene — the clear, swift air that 
glittered as though it were all 'light; the sapphire foam- 
flecked sea, with a myriad rainbows dancing in the spray; 
the towering, labouring ship to shoreward, and the flaming 
colour of the land beyond, gold sand and white and red 
rock, and a bright mosaic of green, and mountains crimson 
and grey bold against the blue distance. Everything near 
or far, ship and tufted palm and mountain, stood out as 
sharply as the bulwarks under his hand. 

The boatswain had piped to quarters. By the long guns 
in the waist stood canvas tubs of powder and buckets of 
water, and over the water ropes of match 3mouldered and 

^ , 


93 


DORICOT’S QUEST 

hissed. The gun's crews were stripped to the waist and 
ready. But Doricot, standing by the wheel, gave no or- 
ders. The Turkish ship plunged on her way, and not till 
she had gone to leeward was the fight begun. Doubtless 
she expected no ill from a craft that was plainly no war- 
ship. She was first aware of danger when a gun roared 
and her mizzen swayed and crashed down. Another shot 
rent her poop. She answered gallantly enough. Before 
the long guns of the Toby could fire again — it was some 
ten minutes — she let off a whole battery. But Doricot 
had made no mistake. Like all the ships of her Spanish 
build, she carried no guns in all her armament with the 
range of the English ordinance. She was meant to fight 
at close quarters, and Doricot would not let her close. He 
had her to leeward, and he kept away out of reach of her 
shot, and pounded her at his leisure till she was a shapeless 
mass of wreckage. 

After her guns had fallen silent, after all her masts had 
gone by the board, his guns rent her till at last a white 
flag fluttered wildly from the poop. Then he put his helm 
over, and the Toby, without a splinter torn from her, came 
down on her helpless prey. On poop and forecastle he had 
his crew ready with pikes, save a few marksmen who took 
muskets into the tops. But there was little need. 

The hull of the Turk was gaping with a score of wounds 
from waterline to bulwark. She was down by the stern, 
and when she pitched in the swell her bows rose high out 
of the water as though she would sink stern foremost. 
The Toby ran alongside and grappled her. The timbers 
chafed and ground and the boarders climbed her shattered 
towering bows. They found none to fight. The ship from 
stem to stern lay a welter of wreck and slaughter. Guns 
and guns’ crews were beaten down beneath masses of shat- 
tered timber. What few of the Turks were left with blood 
enough yet in them to stand lurked here and there, aloof 
from each other, motionless, dazed, as though purpose and 


94 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


power to act were frightened out of them. They were 
driven together easily as sheep, and their arms were taken 
from them, and they made no sign. Doricot tried them 
with questions of whence they came, whither they were 
bound, what was their freight ; but all his languages — and 
he used four — found them deaf and dumb. 

“ If I were of your black blood I should see if fire and 
hook would make you speak ! ” he cried, and struck at the 
set, dull, swarthy faces with the flat of his sword. 

They neither winced nor moved, and he stamped his foot 
and hissed abuse at them. 

Dick stared. It was not like Doricot to break out so, 
and the cause seemed wholly inadequate. 

Doricot turned away and bade drive the fellows aboard 
the Toby and lash them upon the orlop. Then he sent a 
party to cut through the wreckage and find what the Turks 
had in their hold, and he left the boatswain in command 
and went back to the Toby and his cabin, and there sat 
biting his nails. In a little while Dick came to tell him 
that there was in the cargo silk of all sorts, both raw and 
wrought, and carpets the like of which never were seen in 
England, and spices and perfumes. 

‘‘ Get the trash aboard,” said Doricot carelessly. 

Dick gaped. 

‘‘ You’m high and mighty. Boatswain saith as no ship 
out of England had ever such a prize. Be you well in 
your stomach ? ” 

Doricot briefly cursed him and the prize and the boat- 
swain. 

‘‘ Master alderman, he will have it as they silks be worth 
their own weight in gold. He’s so happy as a wasp in a 
plum.” 

Doricot bade him to the devil, and started up and thrust 
him out, and followed on his heels. 

The crew were bustling zealously about the bales and 
rolls of merchandise, and all the waist of the ship was 


DORICOT’S QUEST 


95 


cumbered with them and their work. The air was full of 
noise. Down the shattered side of the Turkish ship 
tackle groaned and shrieked, and from high above came 
the rollicking shouts and song of the boarders despoiling 
her. From the depths of the Toby's hold song and shout 
answered. 

Alderman Fry, happy for the first time since he lost 
sight of Bristol, was feverish with knife and marlinspike, 
bursting open timber and canvas to pass judgment on the 
goods within, and he cried out: 

‘‘ Stand to it, boys ! Stand to it ! Here’s good meas- 
ure for a twenty thousand pound or more.” 

There’s the soul of a hog ! ” quoth Doricot, and as he 
passed kicked him over. 

The alderman sat up and stared after him, dumb in 
amazed indignation. Doricot strutted on to the poop, and 
thence barked at his crew angry abuse for sloth. 

I didn’t know as you had such a mountain of soul,” 
Dick drawled by his elbow. Doricot turned on him with 
an oath. ‘‘ What’s your will ? ” said Dick placidly. 
“ You’m that sore in your tempers. To be sure. I’d ha’ 
thought ’e might be a good fellow to-night, having come by 
what ’e came for.” 

Doricot condemned him for a fool. 

‘‘ D’ye think I came to sea to fill your vile bellies ? ” 

Dick chuckled. 

“ Nay, not till you had yourn running over. But here 
be enough to fill you, surely ? ” 

Mine innocent ” — Doricot took hold of him — belike 
I will give up all this and more and nor you nor I a penny 
the richer.” 

“ Belike you’ll grow wings,” Dick chuckled. 
Himmeldonner ! ” Doricot cried. “ Did ye take me for 
a huckstering hog like him yonder?” 

‘‘ Nay, a naughtier beast nor him. Else ’e might ha’ 
whistled for me.” 


96 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Bah, there’s no spice of spirit in you ! ” quoth Doricot. 

Dick scratched his head and grinned. 

‘‘ And how long ha’ you been a saint, if you please ? 
And if you be, what be you doing at sea? ” 

Doricot did not answer. He stared away over the dark- 
ening sea to the violet void of the horizon. The wind 
was falling as night came and the sea grew quiet. The 
ships still gave to the swell, but lightly, and there was no 
foam nor spray nor any sound of breakers from the fading 
land. The noise of the cargo and the shouting seamen 
about them came like a puny insult to the gathering calm. 
Doricot turned. 

‘‘ You are a clever lad, God help you ! ” said he. Mon 
ami, I could wish you no worse than to get all you want.” 
Dick gaped at him. “ Hark ye now. In the bagnios at 
Alexandria there’s a man that’s more than brother to me. 
And more than all the world holds, my child. We were 
boys with Cabota and gunners in the Holy Cross when 
she went to Candia and Chio. Madonna, we knew how 
to be young ! ” He looked up at Dick with a queer smile. 
“ You should learn that, child. We lived, those nights, 
among the vines in Zante. . . . Then one had to grow 
clever like you. Old Martin, of the Leadenhall in London, 
picked him out for a ship, and I would not serve under him 
for a covetous envy of his place, and so we parted ten year 
since.” 

“ Ay, you’m a great age to be sure,” Dick sniggered. 

Doricot was deaf. 

“ Since ten years I have not seen him. And last year 
he was taken, he and his ship, by the filthy renegado Kheyr- 
ed-Din, whom they call Redbeard. The galleys took him 
in to Alexandria, and there he lies in the bagnio. It cost 
me what I had to buy that news of a Venetian. Now, with 
all I can win, we go to Alexandria to buy Matt Winkfield.” 

Dick gaped. 


DORICOT’S QUEST 97 

“ ’Tis like as if you would go with a beefsteak into a 
lion’s mouth to look for your brother that’s eaten.” 

Ay, you’re a clever lad ! ” Doricot laughed sharply. 
“ The right stuff not to make a captain.” 

He turned and shouted angrily to the boatswain to be 
short and have done. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE WOMAN IN THE VEIL 

The sun lay on the water’s edge and all the west was 
gleaming gold. Doricot stood and looked into the light 
awhile, then turned, and strutting to the stern gazed out at 
the darkening east. From the captured ship came a roar 
of laughter and shouts, and then a great cheer, and men 
ran to her shattered bulwarks yelling ribaldry as a bundle 
swung outboard. 

Doricot hissed a little Spanish and looked over his shoul- 
der. The bundle betrayed itself a woman. She was — 
or she had been — mysteriously swathed in saffron, but 
as she swayed and twisted and struggled at the end of the 
tackle there was no mystery left to hide the floating trousers 
and close bodice of Turkish seraglios. The dark veil that 
shrouded her face remained faithful. She arrived with 
a thud, grovelling on the Toby's deck, and the seamen 
swarming about her gave a cheer for “ Molly Breeches ! ” 

Then Doricot came with vehement oaths and hands and 
they fled in disorder, leaving him in the midst over the 
prostrate veiled woman. She was in no hurry to rise. 
She drew the saffron cloak about her as she lay till it hid 
her again and yet revealed more than it hid — a rich, 
stately form. Then she raised herself on her arm and 
looked up at Doricot, her eyes flashing from the depths 
of her veil. Doricot made her a sweeping bow, and spoke 
in a patois of Italian and Greek. 

“ The sultana is fortunate to come aboard my ship.” 

She laughed. 


98 


THE WOMAN IN THE VEIL 


99 

‘H — I am always fortunate. But you will suffer glori- 
ously.” And again she laughed. 

“ I thank you,” Doricot bowed again. “ To suffer glori- 
ously — what else is life, sultana?” 

“ Christian ! ” she said with contempt. 

“ Nay, you guess like a fool.” 

“ You ” — she rose with slow, considered grace — “ you 
talk like a slave.” 

Doricot shook his head, smiling condescension. 

“ The sultana knows little of slaves. They allowed you 
none, doubtless. And yourself has not been a slave long 
enough. Patience, patience ! ” 

She drew back from him, a veiled statue of pride; and 
there was another roaring cheer from the captured ship, 
and another bundle swayed in the air. To the shriek of 
the tackle it rushed down and came with a thud at Dori- 
cot’s feet, and was disintegrated into two women. These 
had no mystery. Unveiled, coarsely clad, they were plainly 
slaves of little account. One was a negress or mulatto, 
shapeless, though she seemed young, the other white and 
old in years or in slavery. The mulatto lay wailing and 
rubbing herself till the veiled woman flung an order at her. 
Then she staggered to her feet and stood trembling. The 
other slave showed neither pain nor fear on her wasted 
face. With dull eyes she stared at Doricot. 

Doricot began to laugh. 

‘‘ The world mocks you, sultana. This morning these 
were your slaves. Now, behold you are slave to them! 
Go, wash their feet.” 

“ You do not know how little you are, little man,” she 
said coldly. “ What can you do ? Kill me ? Kill me, 
then!” 

If I find it will help me, sultana, I will kill you with 
great content. But first I will try what you can do for me 
alive. As to our fair friends here, you need not be their 
body-servant — yet.” He called a seaman and bade him 


100 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


take the two slaves below. “ Give me your hand.” She 
hesitated, holding aloof; but when he plucked her arm 
out of her robe, made no resistance. He looked down at 
the hand hardly darker than his own, long and shapely, 
with nails stained rosy. “ So. You are not black, then. 
That is well.” 

She stamped her foot and screamed: 

“Boor!” 

Doricot laughed and drew her away from the gaping 
seaman and their noise to the silent twilight of the stern 
walk. 

“ Now, sultana. From whose harem do you come, or 
for whose were you bound ? ” 

“ I do not answer slaves.” 

Doricot shrugged. 

“You are a fool in grain. If I ask you without a cord 
about your head, or a match between your fingers, it is but 
to save myself trouble.” 

“ No torture would make me speak 1 ” she cried. 

“You may be even such a fool as that. For a zecchin 
either of your slaves would tell me all that you can tell.” 

She snatched herself away from him and stood with heav- 
ing bosom. 

“ I am called Arsace, and I come a gift from the Sultan 
Soliman to Dragut Reis. Be sure Dragut will hunt you 
down and have vengeance for this.” 

“Are you worth it?” quoth Doricot coldly. “Let me 
see your face.” As she drew away he caught her veil. 
“ Come, shall I be your tirewoman ? ” 

She gave a passionate cry, and then tore the veil aside 
and showed him a Greek face of rich beauty, all aflame 
with rage. 

“ You will serve,” said Doricot coldly. “ You may go 
down to your sisters.” 

She started back, surprise in her anger now. 

“ Ah, you are not a man, you are a Christian I ” 


THE WOMAN IN THE VEIL 


lOI 


She tossed her head, and her hands worked nervously, 
and she stared out over the sea. 

Doricot laughed. 

Did you think I should bow down to your pink and 
white? I am for better things.” 

But as she gazed eastward into the gathering dark her 
look, her bearing changed. She turned to him, all sign of 
anger gone, eager, cajoling. 

“ You make me ashamed, signor. You humble me. 
For less than I have said to you a Turk would have had 
me flogged till I bled. And I am your slave. Do not use 
me hard. Do not put me in chains.” 

She fell down and kissed his feet. 

Doricot looked down at her with a sneering smile. 

‘‘ Madonna ! what dogs they make of their women ! ” 
he said in English, and then in the patois: '‘Chains? 
Not I, lass. You are worth too much.” 

“My lord will not use me hardly?” she sighed. “In- 
deed, I cannot bear it. I am used to soft lying and ease.” 

“ Ay, that’s how you’re bred,” quoth Doricot with con- 
tempt. “ Come down. You shall have a cabin, you and 
your women.” 

“ My women may be with me ? ” she cried. “ My lord, 
you are noble to your slave.” 

“ Have done,” quoth Doricot, and then in English : 
“ Before, I liked you, but now you make me sick.” So 
he turned her over to a younker and bade him lock the 
three of them in the cabin next his own, and give them 
all they needed. 

The darkness of a clear night was coming down. The 
boatswain shouted for lanterns. Doricot called to him to 
make an end, and paced the poop watching the sky to wind- 
ward, though the wind was almost gone. Then Dick at 
his elbow drawled out: 

“ You’m taking a wife or so, seemly.” 

“Yes, my lord; I never take less than three at once.” 


102 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Doricot spoke carelessly. He had checked and was star- 
ing through the gloom. He ran to the starboard quarter 
and yelled an order to the boatswain : “ All hands aboard ! 

All hands aboard! Douse your lights, Antony. Rot and 
burn you for lubberly knaves! Aboard, I say! Lights 
out, there ! ” 

The men began to swarm back, chattering noisily. 
Younkers ran up the rigging and hither and thither, and 
soon the Toby, which had been aflame as though a flight 
of stars were settling upon her, lay dark. 

Dick, looking where Doricot had looked, saw far off, 
dark craft low in the water, rigged in no fashion that he 
knew, for their sails were like birds’ wings. They seemed 
to move more swiftly than the failing wind. 

He turned to ask Doricot why they should bring panic, 
but Doricot was down in the waist talking to the boatswain. 
Already the Turkish ship was cast off, already the younkers 
were up aloft making sail. The last of the captured cargo 
>was tumbled hastily below. The gunner was mustering his 
men again. 

Under full sail the Toby began to move slowly. Dick 
turned to look for the strange craft astern. Each moment 
it was darker and he could hardly make them out. But it 
seemed they were gaining. He heard Doricot say : 
‘‘ Keep close. Cover your matches,” and Doricot and the 
boatswain climbed to the poop. 

“ What’s yon ? ” said Dick, pointing. 

Doricot peered through the gloom and swore at the wind. 

“ What’s yon ? ” Dick said again. 

“ Galleys, you fool,” the boatswain grunted. ‘‘ Here’s 
a pretty business, surely.” He whistled dolefully. ‘‘ We’m 
nought against they. Captain. They’m the big chaps. 
Four hundred to each of ’em, to my thinking.” 

Doricot stamped. 

'' Give me a wind and I’ll sink every galley that ever came 
out of Algiers.” 


THE WOMAN IN THE VEIL 103 

“ The Lord hath no mind to do such, seemly,” quoth the 
boatswain. “ Please the Lord they’ll miss we. I’ll go see 
we be all dark.” 

Dick knew enough to know the danger. The galleys of 
the Moorish pirates were to the seamen who ventured into 
the Mediterranean like a pestilence. If chance were kind 
a ship might not meet them, but if they came down upon a 
ship no skill nor daring could save her. In rough weather, 
indeed, they were impotent. With a brisk wind a cunning 
captain could, unless he were caught on a leeshore, hold 
his own or do better. But in calm or light winds they 
had over sailing ships the mastery of steam. They could 
manoeuvre at will while their prey waited them immobile. 
They could come down upon her when they chose and as 
they chose. 

Two hundred slaves or more heaved at a big galley’s 
oars. Two hundred fighting men crowded forecastle and 
stern. They carried light guns and few, for it was not 
gunnery that won their fights. If they were hard pressed, 
they might dash their beaked bows into a ship and so 
make an end. But for the most part they chose to run 
alongside and set their swarms of fighting men aboard the 
enemy. No ship upon the seas, save the huge fighting 
craft of Genoa and Venice and the Knights of Malta (and 
from them the galleys fled at speed) could hope for victory 
then. None could muster a crew to stand against the 
numbers of the Moors. It must be one to five at best, 
more likely one to ten, and a fight against wild crea- 
tures who knew no fear of death, no care for life, who in 
the frenzy of fight were unchecked by the ghastliest 
wounds. 

For those whom they took alive there waited the slavery 
of the bagnio^ wearing toil for masters who made cruelty 
their sport, or a harder life still chained on the galley bench, 
naked to the sun and wind and spray, tortured always by 
hunger and thirst, heaving and straining at the oars beneath 


104 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


the lash that would cut deeper and deeper as the body 
weakened till it had carved a way for death. 

The Toby lay dark and silent, hardly moving for all her 
spread of sail. Her guns were manned and ready, and all 
her crew stood to arms along the bulwarks. From the 
poop Doricot and Dick peered astern. The galleys were 
lost in the dark, but the beat of their oars came clear and 
nearer and still nearer. 

. “ Sink them ! they are steering straight upon us,” Doricot 
muttered. "" T eufelsholle, do we show a light, then ? ” 

He was rushing forward when the boatswain came puff- 
ing up. 

“ They women had a lantern by their porthole,” he 
panted. ‘‘ Young Billy Matthews give they a light. Said 
as you bade un give all they axed for. The one in the 
veil seed a lantern and snatched un as he took she down.” 

Doricot bit his teeth on an oath. 

“You had it doused?” he said. He understood now 
the sudden change in madame’s manners. Doubtless she 
had caught sight of the galleys while she kept him in play, 
and made her plan to give them signal. She was yet more 
Oriental than he had thought. 

“ Please God the heathen ha’ not seen it,” said the boat- 
swain. 

There was no answer. They listened to the oarbeat 
nearer and nearer yet, and heard above it the yells of the 
overseers, the whistle of their whips. 

“ Straight upon us,” Doricot muttered. “ Line ahead,” 
and he looked at the boatswain. 

“ Line ahead,” the boatswain agreed gruffly. The gal- 
leys were straight astern and one behind the other so that 
only if the Toby could turn from her course could she 
bring a gun to bear. 

Doricot sprang round and caught the wheel and spun it. 
The ship had no steerage way and could not answer. 


THE WOMAN IN THE VEIL 105 

Fire down into them as they come alongside!” he 
yelled. 

Then the galleys came, shooting up on either quarter 
with a sudden storm of noise, grappling irons crashing, the 
oars straining and groaning with a great gurgle of water, 
amid the wild battle-shouts of the Moors. Suddenly, as 
lanterns were plucked from hiding, the long, low hulls 
flamed light, and were seen teeming with men, crowded and 
busy as a startled ant-heap. The grappling irons were 
hardly fast in the Toby before the Moors came swarming 
up her sides, climbing like cats where there was no foot- 
hold, in a mad haste, yet marvellously adroit. 

Doricot shouted for his gunners, and on the port side 
they contrived to depress the long pieces enough to fire 
down into the heart of the galley. Then there was tumult 
in her and she fell off. But the starboard guns could not 
be brought to bear on the other, and in a moment the T oby 
was flooded with her swordsmen. 

There was no more firing, for the gun crews were cut 
down before they could load again. There was no fight- 
ing, for the Toby's scanty company were whirled back and 
beaten down beneath the weight of numbers that could have 
crushed them without stroke of scimitar or spear. A 
crowded medley of white coats and steel almost as white, 
spear and scimitar and corselet, a tempest of shrill shouts, a 
moment’s hacking and hewing and thrusting, with heart 
and head athrob as though they must break, a moment’s 
consciousness of swarthy faces distorted and foaming — 
then nothingness. No more than that any man of her 
crew could have told of the capture of the Toby, 


f 


CHAPTER IX 

ABOARD THE GALLEY 

When Dick woke he was beneath dead men. He thrust 
up through them, and as the mist was drawn from his 
eyes and dizziness left him he heard splashing and saw 
the Moors casting the corpses of his shipmates into the 
sea. Before he could rise, before he knew what wounds 
he had, lean swarthy arms grasped at him and he was 
dragged along the deck, over weapons and blood. He be- 
gan to struggle as his strength came back, but a blow fell 
upon his mouth and a dark face bent over him hissing, 
and he was shown a dagger. His will yielded and he fell 
limp, and they bound him and flung him overboard. 

A jerk that seemed for a moment to shake head from 
body surprised him with the knowledge that he was not yet 
to drown. He found himself hanging at the end of a rope 
over the galley. He looked down upon the crowded slaves, 
and the rope was paid out swiftly, and he shot down among 
them, to be brought up with a jerk again, and seized and 
flung down upon the deck. A Moor knelt upon him and 
cut the rope from him, leaving him lashed and helpless. 
He was flung down a hatch into fetid darkness. He fell on 
something softer than wood, and heard a grunt, and as he 
bounced on harder stuff an oath. 

You’m Doricot, to be sure,” said he. Who’s the fat 
one?” 

You fell on me, fool,” the alderman grunted. 

'' T’ alderman’s peevish, lad. Singing for his supper, 
as you might say.” 


io6 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 


107 


This was the boatswain’s husky voice. 

It’s a wicked thing ! ” the alderman cried. “ They 
take us and despoil us, and then fling us to starve in this 
den. Filthy heathen ! ” 

‘‘To be sure, how many be we?” Dick cried. 

“ Four with you,” quoth the boatswain. “ Ben’t enough 
to man an oar for them. There’s a pity ! ” 

“ We are enough to do something yet,” said Doricot in 
a low voice. “ Nick Doricot is among you.” 

“ Oh, you’re clever at finding a way if you were not so 
good at losing it,” the alderman grumbled. “ Twenty 
thousand pound we had at sunset ! ” He groaned again. 

“ It was the heathen’s at dawn,” the boatswain chuckled. 
“ And now it’s the heathen’s again. Aw, it’s a wicked 
thing, a seasaw.” 

But Doricot said : “ Twenty lives we had that are gone. 

I keep my own accounts, mynheer.” 

Just then a light came over the hatch, and they saw a 
face too pale to be a Moor’s. 

“Which of you dogs is the captain?” it said in the 
Greek-Italian patois. 

“If your captain would ask my pardon, renegado, go 
and fetch him,” quoth Doricot. 

The face vanished and they heard an order given. 
Bearing lanterns, two negroes, all but naked, slid through 
the hatch and caught Doricot and hoisted him up and van- 
ished after him. 

He was carried, so he told them in the long days that 
came after, to the galley’s great cabin. The negroes set 
him down kneeling and shrank out. He could not stand, 
for his legs were bound, and he did not care to kneel to 
anything in this world, so he rolled over and lay at his 
ease, leaning against the bulkhead. There was laughter, 
and as his eyes grew used to the light he saw the veiled 
woman sitting on a divan, and her slaves standing beside. 
Two men sat opposite her, one a big, loose-made fellow 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


io8 

of bushy black beard, the other smaller but very square, 
with beard and moustaches lank and oiled — a Greek, if 
his face told true. Both were richly clad and bejewelled 
on turban and breast. The cabin was a mass of luxury. 
Silks and brocades hung and fell in gaudy disorder. There 
were things of silver and gold on the table, and in corners 
on the floor lay others. The table blazed with lamps. 

‘‘ Is this the little dog?” the Greek said. 

It lies there,” said the woman, and gave a little cruel 
laugh. 

“ Ha, slave,” quoth Doricot with a grin, ‘‘ have you 
found some to like your sleek face better than I did? ” 

She turned to the mulatto behind her. 

Go, strike him on the mouth till it bleeds.” And, when 
it was done : So we whip curs,” she said, and laughed 

again. 

“ It is marvellous,” said Doricot, “ how you always 
make yourself despicable.” One of the men barked a 
threat at him. “ Your turn shall come, nigger,” he said 
placidly, and looked at the woman again. “ Prithee, go 
on! I like you better in this hangman vein than cowering 
and cringing at my feet. There is something to laugh at 
now.” 

‘‘Cringe!” she laughed out loud. “Little proud fool, 
do you not know yet how I trapped you? Do you think 
I would have spoken you one fair word but to cheat you 
and ruin you? Why, it was these galleys of Dragut’s that 
made me cringe, not your little, strutting folly. I saw them 
while you saw nothing, my great sea captain, and played 
with you to win myself the chance of making them signal. 
It was the light you gave me that brought them down on 
you. It’s I who have beaten you and have you there to 
make me sport.” 

Doricot shrugged as well as he could in his bonds, and 
looked at the men. 

“ What do you niggers do with a crowing hen ? ” 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 


109 


The Greek began to laugh. 

“What shall we do with you, my friend? There’s 

enough for you to think of. Flay you, or hang you on 

the hooks, or bleed you? If we keep you for Dragut, he’ll 
burn you finger by finger.” 

“ What ! ” Doricot cried quickly. “ What, because I did 
not rid him of that woman? Now that is hard measure. 

But God knows I’ll not blame the man. I have seen her 

face.” 

The men looked at each other and at the woman, and 
at each other again. It was obvious that they found Dori- 
cot’s method startling. The woman quivered. 

“ Yes, you have seen me unveiled, dog,” she said in a 
low voice. “ Dragut will not forgive you that.” 

“ I’ll not blame him,” quoth Doricot. “If I had to 
take a wife like you, I would have no man see my mis- 
fortune.” 

She turned passionately on the men. 

“ Will you let me hear this ? ” she cried. “ Is the dog 
to live?” 

“ You bade him here,” said the Turk stolidly. 

“ He is for Dragut, not us,” quoth the Greek, and clapped 
his hands. When the negroes entered : “ Bear him back 

to the others,” he said. 

Doricot nodded to the men as he was borne out. 

“ My good fellows, I am sorry for you.” 

As he went he heard the woman’s voice shrill. He was 
well satisfied with himself. Now Dragut’s men knew, ^nd 
Dragut must be told, what the woman would have kept 
secret — that a man had seen her unveiled. Therefore, 
they would not kill him, but save him for Dragut. It 
might mean a far worse death, but at least it meant some 
days more life, and it must mean that Dragut would have 
none of the woman. For a man had seen her unveiled, a 
man had mocked at her naked face. She was no more 
worthy to be a pasha’s wife. She was paid. 


no THE SEA CAPTAIN 

He was thrown back upon his companions in the shallow, 
nauseous hold. 

What’s the news with you ? ” Dick said. 

“ Only madame wanted to make love to me,” quoth Dori- 
cot, and wriggled to lay himself more easily. “ I am for 
sleep.” 

Sleep was hard to win. Not only hunger and thirst, noi 
only the cramp and pain of their bonds troubled them, but 
overhead there was every moment the clank of chains as 
the slaves stirred and turned on their benches. Louder 
than the chain clank came groaning. Some wretch, 
wounded or smarting from the whip, or in the torture of 
one of the thousand diseases that haunted the galleys, had 
lost all mastery of himself. 

For hours, as it seemed, they listened. The boatswain 
swore at the groans jovially. The alderman had gone to 
sleep, and Dick was dozing, when there came a clear, im- 
perious voice. Doricot sat up. It was the veiled woman. 

The noise disturbs me, I say. See that it ends at once.” 
Then a murmur, then a smooth : It shall end, madame,” 

and the woman’s voice : See that it be done, Lucia.” 

Heavy steps overhead and a faint gleam of lantern light 
across the hatch, then a clang of metal, a shriek, and a 
splash. The groaning ceased. 

“ What is it now? ” said Dick drowsily. 

“ They ha’ flung the poor devil overboard in his chains. 
Why, he was spoiling madame’s beauty sleep.” 

“ There’s a wench,” Dick drawled. Something fell down 
the hatch. “ What now ? ” he cried. 

Silent ! ” Doricot hissed. 

He began to wriggle along the planks, feeling slowly, 
laboriously with his body. He lay upon what he sought. 
His hand closed on the helve of an axe. 

You imagine how his heart jumped. But he made no 
sound. He turned and pressed the edge on the rope that 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 


III 


bound him. He was free and stretching his limbs and 
rubbing them. Back he came to the others. 

“ No man speaks a word but I,” he whispered, and set 
them free. ‘‘ Now will we free the slaves,” he said. 

Follow. Who makes a sound as we go cuts his own 
throat.” 

On the boatswain’s back he stood and peered warily out 
of the hatch. The lanterns were gone. There was no 
light save at bow and stern. No one moved among the 
oar benches. There was no sound but the endless clank of 
the chains as the sleepers stirred and turned. He hauled 
himself up, and Dick after him, and, leaving the others to 
do their own business, crept forward, scanning the slaves 
keenly. By a brawny fellow amidships he paused, and put 
a hand on the naked shoulder, murmuring in patois: 

“ Friend, friend. One of the English come to set you 
free. I’ve a hatchet. If I split the bench, can you do the 
rest ? Silent, silent ! ” 

The man gave a hoarse chuckle and muttered in his com- 
rade’s ear, and he again to the next, till the whole oar’s 
crew were told. They were chained to the bench by body 
and leg, but since they must have freedom to row, not 
closely. 

‘‘ Clank your chains — clank your chains ! ” Doricot mut- 
tered and swung the axe, and the sound of the blow was 
lost. Again he struck, and again, and then as the whole 
oar’s crew flung themselves on their chains together, the 
bench split and the bolts were torn out and they were free, 
save that their chains must go with them where they 
went. 

‘‘ Can you find tools and weapons ? ” Doricot muttered. 
‘‘ We must free the rest, or you are lost.” 

The big man whom he had roused first clapped him on 
the shoulder. 

‘‘ Be easy, brother — be easy,” he said, and took a great 
piece of the broken bench and ran forward. 


II2 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ The others, the others ! ” one gasped at Doricot’s 
elbow, and to the next bench he went. 

By this time Dick and the boatswain and the alderman 
were up with him, and over his shoulder he said: 

Keep close about me. We’ll give the heathen what 
will keep them busy,” and. he swung the hatchet again, and 
another crew was loosed. 

Back came the big man panting, with a scimitar under 
his arm and mallet and chisel. 

“ I ha’ broke the sentry’s head, brother,” he gasped. 
“ Here be the tools from the locker. And none heard but 
him that’s dead. 

“ Fall to it,” cried Doricot, “ fall to it ! ” 

The big man turned on the men who were free and 
swore at them. 

“ Get forward and kill, I say. What, would you have 
the wire in your flesh again ? Get forward and kill ! ” 

“ Let some go aft,” Doricot called, and swung his hatchet 
again; and, breaking themselves clubs from the benches, 
forward and aft they went, breathing deep. 

Now full half the slaves were awake and aware. Yet 
they made little noise. There was a murmur of eager talk, 
but no more, no cries nor shouting. On the galley benches 
a man learnt to wait or died, and calmly they waited the 
will of this man of miracle. Once free, the most of them 
were transfigured. They thrust upon one another and 
struggled in the narrow way to come at their masters 
quickly. But still they spoke little. There was no time, 
no use for words till they had their vengeance. 

On platforms fore and aft the Moorish swordsmen lay, 
almost as crowded as their slaves. The first of these freed 
slaves fell to work and clubbed and slew men who still 
slept ; but soon there was alarm, soon a trumpet sounded, and 
shouts rose and the clash of arms. By that the first of the 
slaves had won arms from the dead. Each minute brought 
others to aid them. The fight was without mercy or 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 113 

honour. The slaves had nothing to fear save being taken 
alive. They had dark cruelty to avenge. Man for man 
— since they were men who had lived through the toil of 
the oar — they overmatched the Moors. In numbers, as 
each moment brought them reinforcement from the 
crowded benches, they had the advantage. It was not a 
butchery. The Moors fought desperately. But it was 
more like a fight of wild beasts than a fight of men. 

Before all the slaves were freed Doricot gave over the 
work to their comrades, and with his little company close 
about him pushed forward. 

Leave the bulls to the dogs, my lads,’' quoth he. “ A 
boat, now — where’s a boat ? ” 

They found one stowed inboard just forward of the 
oars, and, while the fight in the bows roared on above them, 
they had her into the water and dropped over side. 

The other ships were waking. From the second galley 
lanterns waved in signal and shouts came again and again. 
There was no answer but the crash and growl of the fight. 
Lights moved on the Toby, and her new crew hailed their 
comrades wildly. Doricot chuckled. 

“ Shout — ay, shout again. Peradventure they sleep 
and must be awakened.” 

Standing in the stern of the boat, he fisted her along the 
galley’s side. 

What be doing? ” Dick cried. 

‘‘ Who bade you speak ? ” quoth Doricot. Give me an 
oar, booby.” 

They were under the portholes of the great cabin, from 
which broad bands of light streamed over the sea. For a 
moment Doricot’s keen face stood out white. Then he 
moved aside and raised the oarblade. The glass of the 
porthole was shivered. He called out: 

“ What, Arsace ! What, Madame Arsace ! ” 

In the roar of the fight above he hardly heard his own 
voice. 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


114 

But the veiled woman came to the porthole and looked 
out. For a moment, as she stood in the light and he in 
the darkness, she could not see him, and she cried in a 
clear, quivering voice: 

‘‘Who is it? Who calls?” 

“ Come and see,” Doricot laughed. “ Come and see and 
be saved.” 

At that moment Dick caught his ankle with a “That’s 
a pretty thing, now. Ha’ done and sit down and give 
way.” But Doricot dropped the oar loom on his knuckles. 

The woman had drawn back a little and stood muttering 
to herself. Behind her Doricot saw the worn, white face 
of the elder of her slaves. It was smiling. 

“ I have played out your game, my lass,” Doricot 
laughed. “ I ha’ freed myself. I ha’ freed the slaves. 
They’ll be upon you swiftly. Come, there’s no life for 
you but here. Madre Dios, not Barbarossa himself was 
ever worse to Christian woman than the gallerians to a 
Turkish lass that they win. Come, I say.” 

But she drew back again, muttering: 

“ You freed them! You won free! ” 

Doricot laughed. As the boat rose on the swell and he 
swayed with her, he held out his arms into the beam of 
light. “ Come, child. I’ve no malice, God help you.” 

But there was no answer from behind the veil. She stood 
there in the light and all her body seemed shrunken. She 
fumbled at her girdle. “ You freed them,” she muttered 
again. “ You won free! ” She drew in her breath noisily. 

“ I gave him the axe ! ” It was a voice quivering with 
passion and hate. Arsace whirled round, she was at her 
full height again, tense and fierce. The old slave came to 
meet her bosom to bosom, and shook and chuckled as she 
spoke. “ Ay, my kind mistress, ay, my chuck, I set him 
free. There was never a one till he came who dared flout 
you and mock you. Oh, it fed my soul to hear him. And 
now — now you shall know worse before you die. I thank 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 


115 

the good God! Ay, my sweet mistress, they’ll pay my 
debts to-night. Thank God, I have broken you in the 
end.” 

A moment they stood against each other, the tall virginal 
form very still and the slave’s heavy shape unsteady with 
ugly laughter. Then Arsace drew back and struck and the 
two swayed and struggled together while the slave shrieked 
out a ghastly tale of the vengeance to come. 

Overhead the din of the fight was broken with mad yells 
of triumph. There was a scurry of feet and shouts: 
“ The women ! The women 1 ” and then a thunder at the 
door of the cabin. Arsace tore herself free and rushed to 
the weapons that hung upon the bulkhead. 

Doricot shouted passionately : 

‘‘ Come, fools, come to me and I’ll save you.” 

But the slave cried : 1 

“ Go your ways, Englishman. Your work’s done. She’s 
not for you, nor I neither,” and she rushed upon the woman, 
who was putting a scimitar to her breast. “ You shall not 
kill yourself ! ” she shrieked. ‘‘ Your father struck me 
down when I would have killed myself, when he flogged 
my husband to death. You shall not kill yourself, I say! 
You, too, you shall be a slave. Ah, my God, I have lived 
for this ! ” 

So they were locked about the scimitar when the gal- 
lerians broke in. 

But already, with a mutter of '' Here’s enough of your 
games,” Dick had pushed the boat off and bent to his oars. 
Doricot sat himself down, grumbling and muttering to him- 
self. 

As they drew away a fresh sound came over the water. 
In the second galley was the groaning of cable and capstan. 
They could see her moving up to her anchor. 

‘‘ It’s up anchor, is it ? ” Doricot said, and then lifted up 
his voice : “ Gallerians ! Ahoy, gallerians ! Cut your 

cable! Out with your oars! You have the other galley 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


ii6 

upon you ! ” Then he turned fiercely upon his own crew, 
who were resting again on their oars. ‘‘ Give way, curse 
your folly — give way! Do you want to be caught be- 
tween them? 

On both galleys there was a fever of scurrying and shout- 
ing. Through the dawn twilight they could see the oars 
thrust out. Almost at the same moment both began to 
move. 

The Moors, it was plain, intended their usual tactics to 
grapple and board. Whether the slaves meant what they 
did Doricot professed always that he could not guess. For, 
just as it seemed that the Moors would run alongside, as 
they sought, the other galley altered her course, and bow 
to bow, beak upon beak, they crashed and were jammed to- 
gether. Even so, the Moorish swordsmen swarmed from 
forecastle to forecastle, but as they came the locked bows 
dipped and dipped, and Doricot cried : 

“ They’re sinking, by Heaven — they’re sinking ! ” 

Still the fight raged. In a moment there was one great 
roar of despair as the water rose to the crowded benches. 
But still on the high forecastle the fight raged; still the 
Moors pressed fiercely on as though there were something 
to be won by victory, something lost by defeat; still the 
gallerians strove against them as though there were danger 
they might fail of their vengeance, and to the clash and 
yell of the fight the galleys sank together. 

The mellowing light fell upon a sea where beneath the 
tall ships’ shadow there floated only a little scattered tim- 
ber. 

In the blaze of noon four men stood on the beach watch- 
ing the sails of the T oby far away. 

“ There goes twenty thousand pound,” said the alderman 
gloomily. 

“ There goes beef and beer,” the boatswain chuckled. 

“ What’s to do? ” said Dick. 


ABOARD THE GALLEY 


117 

There’s Alexandria,” quoth Doricot, and a man that’s 
my brother to come out o’ prison.” 

“We be near as naked as we were born,” the alderman 
grumbled. 

“The better the venture!” cried Doricot. “Without a 
ship, without a weapon, en avant, mon ami, en avant!'* 


CHAPTER X 


THE OPEN BOAT 

Of his own impulse Dick would have had no part in it. 
He was not made for the infinite ambitions of pride and 
faith. More than once in his life he chose to risk it for 
no gain, but not without some ponderable chance of suc-^ 
cess, not without some strong motive of duty or passion or 
rage. It was not in him to make a venture which the bold- 
est reason must call impossible. It was not of his soul to 
fling his hopes of this world away in a mad charge for a 
cause to which he was not bound. And if not of him, still 
less of those sturdy sceptical comrades, the boatswain and 
the alderman. The honour of it all is Nicholas Doricot’s. 
Not John Hawkins nor Francis Drake, not Hugh Wil- 
loughby nor Humphrey Gilbert bore higher heart or will 
more dominant than the captain of these four men who 
sailed their open boat from Tripoli to Alexandria in th*e 
year Queen Mary died. 

That boat was no bigger than a whaler and, you may be 
sure, less seaworthy. She was furnished with such dregs 
of food and water and tackle as they could find aboard a 
battered, plundered Turkish ship. They made a voyage of 
a thousand miles and more along an unknown, harbourless, 
barren coast with nothing but courage and chance to assure 
them fresh provision of water and food. It was as great 
a deed as that run home from San Juan d’Ulloa with half 
a crew of battered men in a battered ship. And the end 
of this venture could be nothing but a venture yet more 
perilous. 

How they got out of Alexandria again is one of the 
118 


THE OPEN BOAT 


119 

greatest stories in the world. But that is in the chronicles. 
There is nowhere more than a sentence dr two about the 
voyage. Richard Rymingtowne, who had a sufficient in- 
terest in his own life and a proper admiration for his cap- 
tain, Nick Doricot, dismissed this business curtly. His 
papers do not expand into detail till they have brought us 
to Alexandria. But it was as wonderful for the four ad- 
venturers to get there as to get out again. How Doricot 
made them go his way is the secret of a man born for mad 
hopes and imperious command and glorious failure. They 
must have seen the folly of it. That four men should dash 
themselves upon the forts of Alexandria to rescue an Eng- 
lishman from the bagnio was plainly no better than co- 
operative suicide. They had no call of honour. The pris- 
oner was nothing to any one of them save Doricot. They 
could have sailed their boat for Malta and made sure of 
safety under the banner of the Knights. But Doricot bade 
them through madness to wilder madness, and they obeyed. 

So by a miracle of will and courage to Alexandria they 
came. It was in the noon glare that they first had sight of 
the shafts of pharos and pillar, vague as the hot air quivered 
in waves, and all about them, like a dream city built of 
cloud, crowded houses and arsenal, and forts embraced by 
the sea. But they had seen many a city before as like the 
real as this — cities which vanished when a man drew near 
— cities of mirage. It only moved them to break a poor 
joke or two upon Doricot. 

“ Fairyland, ahoy ! Here's another o’ your fancy towns, 
Cap’n. Bid un wait for ’e now, do ’e, this time.” And 
Doricot nodded and said: 

“ Carry on, carry on.” 

He believed in his eyes, perhaps, no more than any other 
of that shrunken scorched company, but he still believed 
in his will. That city, like all the rest, might fade into 
wastes of scorching sand; that night, like many another, 
might find their bodies sleepless in the torture of thirst; 


120 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


morning might dawn with a pitiless sky, and the day be 
spent in wild, mind-breaking search for stream or spring 
or pool on the barren shore. But that day would follow day 
without relief, that hope and effort and purpose were all 
mirage luring them to a useless death, he never thought of 
fearing, and though they mocked and grumbled, his proud 
constancy commanded their souls too. 

All day long, as the boat slid slow through an oily sea, the 
vague city stayed in sight, and when the sun fell behind 
them and the reverberating air grew still, tower and pin- 
nacle and wall and the jumble of houses were seen solid, 
glowing stone, sharp against sky and sea. Then three of 
them began to chatter about it eagerly, which was fort and 
which the old harbour, and which the mole, and which the 
bagnio. But Dick, who had the tiller, growled out: 

“ Now we’m seeing what fools we be,” and when they 
turned upon him, Will I run her nose on that great tower 
yonder? ” 

Doricot laughed. 

‘‘ If I had a hundred the like of you, my lad, Vd take the 
whole heathen town.” 

‘‘ Being as it is, the heathen be more like to take we,” 
Dick grumbled. 

Doricot laughed again and took the tiller, and they ran 
the boat ashore and made a meal of dates and dried fish 
and water from a brackish pool, and slept on the sand. 

Morning found three of them still happy with excite- 
ment. Doricot strutted about his bathing with elasticity. 
He felt himself already the whirling victor of impossible 
achievements. The boatswain and the alderman, it is to 
be suspected, apart from some small capacity for imbibing 
intoxication from him, owed their enthusiasm to the pros- 
pect of coming again into the world, of moving among 
other men again. For they were tired of each other, and 
their lonely boat and desolate shores, But Richard Ryming- 


THE OPEN BOAT 


I2I 


towne, whose ascetically practical mind cared for none of 
these things, remained morose. 

It was his way to see difficulties and expect danger. Far 
more clearly than any other man of them he saw the ulti- 
mate madness of the venture. I suppose for all his reluc- 
tant, compelled worship of Doricot’s spirit he had by this 
time no faith in the man’s brain. He followed to the last 
because he could no other. He revered to the end and 
after. But as a leader of men he much preferred himself. 

When they hid their boat in the sand and started to fetch 
a compass about the city, he followed at Doricot’s heel like 
a dog, but a sullen dog. Doricot designed to come in from 
the eastern side, where the harbour for foreign ships was, 
and to learn the ways of Alexandria, and gather such in- 
formation as they could, posing as Geek seamen or Lev- 
antines. After their scorching and hard fare they looked 
the parts well enough. 

The Alexandria to which they came was little like the 
busy port of our time, still less the teeming city of palaces 
of the ancient world. On the verge and in the very midst 
were great spaces of empty buildings falling to ruin. Only 
the arsenal and the forts and the bagnio stood sound and 
strong. Its quays, its streets, were idle; its bazaars were 
shabby, mean, colourless. It had dost its business and its 
wealth. In the foreign harbour lay nothing but a few 
small Levantine feluccas. It was only on the other side of 
the Isthmus, where slaves toiled on the mole, where the 
galleys were drawn high on the beach and slaves scoured 
their hulls, that there was life and vigour. Alexandria 
was little but a dockyard of pirates. 

Since one stranger makes less mark in a town than a 
company, Doricot bade his scatter, yet keep him always in 
sight. But there was little need of such caution. Few 
looked twice at them. A Greek, an Italian sailor was noth- 
ing strange in the sleepy streets. It seemed a3 if no mortal 


122 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


race could be strange there. The people of Alexandria 
were in all shades of colour from black to white, in all 
kinds of dress from the nearly nothing that emphasised a 
sleek black body to the heavy elaborate gaberdines of Jews 
from Turkestan. There were thin-shanked negroes and 
sturdy fellaheen of sullen, stolid brown faces, both all but 
naked, and in among them Italians with all the glory of 
ruff and trunk hose. There were lithe Arabs and little 
timid, nervous Greeks, and yellow hairless Mongol slave 
dealers, and here and there a huge, fair-haired Slav from 
the Balkans or the Euxine. But though the races were 
many, there were not many people to count. They were 
all idle and listless, as though in Alexandria there was 
nothing to do or hear or see. Even the Jews lounged and 
shuffled and dawdled as they went their way. There was 
not even chaffering in the bazaars. The shops offered 
a scanty, mean stock and none of the loiterers seemed to 
have will or means to buy, none of the squatting, smoking 
merchants any desire to sell. The city had no life. 

Except in its hard driven slaves and their pirate masters. 
On the forts that towered over the western harbour, on the 
shapeless mass of the arsenal, on the square surly ugliness 
of the bagnio, life enough had been spent and was being 
spent still. They bore no sign of weakness or decay or 
sloth. Their walls stood sound and strong. All about 
them, to the very crevices in the stones, was swept and 
garnished with womanly precision. They were kept as 
only a place can be kept when human flesh is used without 
thrift or mercy. They made a queer grim contrast to the 
decay and filth, the listless idleness of all the rest of the 
town. 

Doricot, who had bidden his little company play the fool 
in a bazaar till he called them out of it, strutted past the 
forts and as near the bagnio as he dared, marked the gates 
and the gaoler’s house, and turned to the harbour. He 
stood a little while watching the horde of slaves labouring 


THE OPEN BOAT 


123 


naked in the glare about the galleys. Among them over- 
seers lounged, striking here and there wantonly. Doricot 
saw lines of blood break red on the white backs. That 
was the life of his friend. 

He came back to his men in the bazaar, and, ‘‘ Now I 
know Alexandria,” said he, and therewith turned into a 
shop which displayed nothing but a few trinkets of tarnished 
silver. Its master was a Jew. He blinked at Doricot from 
the floor and pulled himself to his feet and made salaam. 
Doricot, chattering bad Italian very fast, held out in the 
palm of his hand a gold 6oin, an English angel. It was to 
be understood that he had won it from a seaman at Rhodes 
over the dice-box; that it was French and worth two hun- 
dred aspers. Would Father Abraham change it for him? 

Father Abraham peered at it and weighed it in his hand, 
and peered at it again and shook his head. He lamented 
that Doricot had been deceived by a godless man. The 
thing was not worth two hundred aspers or one. Not 
French but English. Doricot laughed scornfully. Eng- 
lish? Who ever heard of anything English in the Levant? 
No Englishman had ever been seen east of Venice. Father 
Abraham was trying to cheat him. 

Father Abraham called upon the name of God for 
strength to survive his amazement. Why, month after 
month the galleys towed English ships into harbour. The 
bagnio was full of English slaves. 

Doricot called Father Abraham the father of lies. 
“ Show me an Englishman in Alexandria and I’ll eat 
him.” 

Father Abraham compared him to the children who 
mocked at the prophet and were eaten by the bear. 

Doricot called Father Abraham a prevaricator. There 
might indeed be Englishmen in the place come upon a mat- 
ter of trade, come for a cargo with the warrant and safe- 
conduct of Sultan Soliman, even as he had come and men 
of every race came the year round, But English prisoners 


124 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

— English slaves I He did not believe that one breathed in 
Alexandria. 

“ Alas, my son, what you will believe, you Christians, 
what you will not believe, I cannot tell. For you are ruled 
by your desires and not wisdom or truth.’’ 

Doricot called Father Abraham a wordy infidel. The 
English were fierce devils, who would never be taken alive, 
who would not brook slavery. Not an Englishman was 
ever born who would obey a Moslem. They were not 
craven Jews. 

It was the Jew’s turn to laugh. “ Oh,, oh, they were all 
brave! Yes, they are all lions! Not like a poor old Jew! 
They will fight till they die! They will not bow them- 
selves! They are no slaves. Nay, by my beard! They 
will not lick your feet and betray their brothers ! ” He 
cackled venomously. 

Why, how now, old gentleman ? What maggot’s bit 
you? I know the English. They are as brave as bulls. 
You are a dreamer. You babble. Tell me now, did you 
ever see an Englishman since you were born? ” 

“ Nay, my lord, I never saw one,” the Jew sneered. “ I 
know nothing. I spake out of my emptiness and folly as 
is the way of age.” 

“ Why, now you are witty ! ” Doricot clapped him on 
the shoulder. “ But to it again. Did ever you know an 
Englishman ? ” 

“ Indeed, it seemed to my poor wits, good sir, that I 
knew one. But beyond a doubt he is even as you say, that 
my lord of the Golden Lion. Prithee, go to him and tell 
him how brave he is, my son. Surely he will welcome you.” 

Doricot stiffened. Here was news, indeed, and some- 
thing more than he had played for. The Golden Lion was 
the ship of his friend Matt Winkfield. Why should the 
Jew choose to jeer at Winkfield’s courage? But he showed 
only careless impatience. 

‘‘ What have I to do with your Golden Lions? Why do 


THE OPEN BOAT 


125 


you babble useless lies? I know the English. A breed 
of savage fools. As for their wits — He snapped his 
fingers. “ But brave to madness — all the world knows 
that.” 

“ Ay, ay, young men know all things ! Oh, yes, he 
has no wits, my lord of the Golden Lion, Oh, yes; he is 
madly brave! That is how he lives in his fine house.” 

Doricot wondered more and more. But he had no mind 
to wake Jewish suspicions. So he became impatient. 

“To the fiend with yoii and your Golden Lion! How 
much for my French coin? ” 

“ For your English angel,” the Jew sniffed, “ fifty 
aspers.” 

Then they higgled a little while, till Doricot went grum- 
bling off with fifty-one. He found his men gaping duti- 
fully where they had been left. But Dick stared hard at 
him and drawled out: 

“ You’ll ha’ been cheated.” 

“ I wonder,” Doricot muttered. One of the many don- 
keys laden with fruit shouldered past him, and he turned 
to its driver and began to buy a pumpkin. If anyone knew 
all the houses of Alexandria it must be the pedlars of fruit. 
His questions hid craftily what he had in mind — so craft- 
ily that the first lad and the next and the next gave him only 
useless answers. He had wandered through half a score 
of streets — every man of his company had a pumpkin to 
carry — before a fragile little Copt told him of a stranger, 
a Ferangi, a yellow-haired man, a seaman captured by the 
galleys, who had a house by the ruins of Hadrian’s wall 
towards the Catacombs. Then Doricot began to bite his 
lips. 


CHAPTER XI 


MATT WINKFIELD 

In the shade of the ruins they ate onions and pumpkins. 
In the shade of the ruins they waited. There was no mis- 
taking the house. It stood in the midst of desolation. All 
about it were others empty and falling to wreck. In their 
courtyards and gardens a few hovels had been built of 
their decay. This one house alone made any pretence of 
life and use. It was in no other way distinguished, neither 
large nor small, neither splendid nor mean. The yellow 
stone walls were broken with courses of red and black. It 
had the common array of tiny barred windows below, and 
an overhanging upper story with little perforated balconies. 
The door was low and narrow, and through the doorway 
they could see only a blank wall and a drowsy black negro. 

When the shadows were falling long there came by the 
road from the city a man all in white, turban and loose 
tunic and trousers. He was followed by two negroes all 
shining black, save for the loin-cloth. Doricot whistled 
a little between his teeth. As the procession came near they 
saw that the man had a yellow beard. Doricot ran out 
of the shadow. 

“ Why, Matt, here’s wonders ! ” said he. 

The man started back. 

Doricot laughed and held out his hand. 

‘‘ How goes it? ” 

“ What o’ God’s name brought you here ? ” said Wink- 
field in a low voice, drawing back still. 

“ You ! ” Doricot thrust the hand upon him. 

126 


MATT WINKFIELD 


127 


He took it in a loose grip, staring and muttering: 

“ What do you want of me? ’’ 

“ The devil ! ’’ Doricot cried. ‘‘ I thought you was want- 
ing me, my dear ! ” 

Winkfield let his hand fall. 

“ What do you mean ? What have you heard ? 

“ I heard you were a slave. Matt,” said Doricot with a 
gentleness strange to his voice. 

“Well, I am a slave,” Winkfield cried angrily. “Do 
you think I am not a slave ? ” 

“ God bless you ! ” said Dick in the background, “ you 
look more like a bashaw with fifty wives ! ” 

Doricot turned on him. 

“ Who bade thee yelp, puppy ? ” 

“These be your men?” Winkfield cried. “ How many 
are you, then ? ” 

“We be four men. Which heard you was taken by the 
heathen, and are come to save you and yours.” 

“ You are mad,” Winkfield muttered. He looked nerv- 
ously about him. There was no one in sight save some 
fellaheen among the hovels, but he caught Doricofs arm 
and cried: 

“Well, come in, come in! We cannot talk here.” 

They went through the low doorway, and, turning, came 
into a paved courtyard where a fountain gleamed. In one 
corner the earth was bare, and a vine and fig-trees grew up 
lattice-work, making shade for a low stone bench strewn 
with cushions. Winkfield started that way and then 
checked, and muttering, “ No, best within,” brought them 
to a room with mosaic floor and panels of sandal wood. 
He dropped upon a divan; the strength seemed to go out 
of his body, and he sat in a heap. “ Well, sit, sit 1 ” he 
cried petulantly. “You can sit yourselves down for sure.” 
With some gaping at the worn splendour of the room, down 
they sat. He clapped his hands and a veiled woman darted 
in — a tiny creature all shimmering silk. He snapped 


128 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


something angry at her in Arabic, and she fled. After a 
moment an Egyptian lad came with a tray of coffee and 
yellow bread and little cakes. 

‘‘ Ay, for a man that’s a slave you ha’ very pretty liv- 
ing,” said Dick with a sniff. 

Winkfield shifted on his cushions and scowled at him, 
and looked at Doricot and looked away again. 

“ Do you come here to mock me ? ” he said shrilly. 

“Mock ye now!” Dick drawled. “To my thinking, 
’tis you’m mocking we. We come nigh parching ourselves 
to death for to help a poor soul that is naked and chained 
and whipped, and here be you fat and kicking with black 
slaves and brown and pretty girls to your whistle. Mock 
ye, says you 1 It’s you has the laugh, my lad.” 

“ Be silent, you ! ” quoth Doricot over his shoulder. 
“ But faith, Matt, the lads have gone through something 
to come to you, and here you are, mighty lordly. What’s 
the way of it?” 

“ Why did you come ? ” said Winkfield. 

“ Why ? ” Doricot’s brow proclaimed surprise. “ Did 
you think Nick Doricot would hear of you a slave to these 
beastly heathen, and not make a venture to win you free? 
Madre Dios, we know each other, you and I.” 

“ You were mad to come,” said Winkfield gloomily. 

“ SHI vom plait, quoth Doricot. “ But we’re here.” 

Winkfield stared at the ground. 

“ Why, man, take heart.” Doricot slapped him on the 
shoulder. “ We’ll have you on the sea for England be- 
fore—” 

Winkfield started and cried out: 

“ England 1 How can I go to England ? I mean — 
why, you are mad.” 

Doricot shrugged. 

“ For what I see, you could sail to-night. To be sure, 
there’s your crew.” 


MATT WINKFIELD 


129 

“What do you mean? What do you know of my 
crew?” Winkfield cried fiercely. 

“ Less we know about the gentleman better he likes it, 
seemly,” Dick drawled. 

“Why, what’s the matter?” said Doricot. “I see you 
ha’ found a way to make yourself easy, but — ” 

“ I tell you I am a slave. As much a slave as if they 
had me in the bagnio. And God knows, more. I am their 
slave, I say.” 

“ ’Tis a fat lie, seemly,” quoth Dick. 

“ You are out of the bagnio at least,” said Doricot with 
a frown. “ They have your lads in it still.” 

“ Is that my fault? ” Winkfield snarled. 

“ Who says so ? ” Doricot was plainly surprised in him. 
“ But there they are sweating their lives out under the lash, 
and you — ” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Can I help it?” Winkfield cried petulantly. “ Besides, 
they be most of them dead. The better for them.” 

“ There’s what I’d never say,” quoth Doricot. “ Most of 
them dead. Well, you’re the captain of them all.” 

“What do you mean? We had four galleys upon us. 
We were becalmed off Candia. They came upon us in the 
night. What was the use of fighting?” 

Doricot frowned. 

” M or dieu, but you fought your ship, Matt?” 

“ Fought till we were all down,” Winkfield muttered, 
“ and the most of us never got up again.” Then suddenly 
he cried out, “ I tell you I wish often I had been one of 
them.” He turned his face away. 

Doricot nodded, “ I know.” 

Dick slunk silently out of the room. 

“ Still, you know, you ben’t one of them,” said the boat- 
swain stolidly, “ so why ben’t you in the bagnio with 
t’others? ” 

Winkfield looked round with something furtive in his 


130 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


eyes. ‘‘ The Turks let me out because I know their tongue, 
because I could interpret for them, because I could serve 
them in their traffics. I swear I am more a slave than 
any.” 

Doricot clicked his tongue. “So! Well, now, there’s 
to get your lads out of the bagnio and sail away.” 

Winkfield lost breath. 

“ Out of the bagnio ? ” he gasped. 

“ Madonna, you would not leave the lads behind? ” Dori- 
cot cried. 

Winkfield stammered : “ But you are mad — mad, I 

tell you. .There’s no way.” 

“ I saw a dozen this morning. What the devil ! There 
be slaves enough here to eat all the Turks and their forts 
atop.” He laughed. “ What a venture I And with you 
that know the Turks and their ways, and their speech, and 
go and come amongst them — why, it’s fair wind and a 
clear sky.” Winkfield started up. “ Nay, man, sit down 
and we’ll plan it all in an hour.” 

Winkfield stared at him as if he were raving. 

“ The forts,” he said. “ The guns. They have a thou- 
sand men ever under arms and more — yes, and more. 
Go and meddle with the slaves and they’ll have you on the 
hooks in an hour.” 

“ Not me, my lad,” Doricot laughed. “ Come, sit down 
and talk sense.” 

“You never mean it. You — ” 

“ I mean it and I’ll do it, and you shall help me. Matt.” 

“ Oh, you’re mad!” Winkfield cried, and stared at him 
a moment and turned away. 

He fidgeted and fumbled with the iron work of the win- 
dow and turned again laughing nervously. “ You’re a 
good fellow, Nick, a good fellow, I swear you are. And 
i’ faith, I take it kindly of you. I know you mean me 
well.” Here the boatswain guffawed. You conceive the 
amazement, the fierce contempt possessing Doricot. But 


MATT WINKFIELD 


131 


Winkfield understood nothing. He went on in a hurry. 
“ Yes, you mean me well. But the truth is you put me in 
peril. If it were known that I had here Christians with- 
out a safe conduct, my life must answer for it. Nay, Nick, 
you must be gone. Come, I am poor enough, but I can 
spare you a little money. I swear I will tell none of your 
coming.” 

‘‘Not tell on us!” the boatswain roared. “Oh, you’m 
a merry man.” 

Doricot hissed out an oath. “ What of your men that 
are whipped in the bagnio?” 

“Is it my fault?” Winkfield said. “Do I not suffer? 
I have lost all. I tell you I can bear no more. I cannot.” 
He was tearful and turned away. 

Doricot sprang after him. “ Come, Matt, they’ve broke 
your spirit, but we’ll mend it again. You shall make a 
mock of all the pashas in Alexandria and all the power of 
Mahound.” 

“ You are mad! ” Winkfield cried again. 

“ Nay, not I. Come, sit down to the plan.” 

Winkfield made a gesture of despair. “ I have done 
what I could,” he muttered and looked sadly at Doricot. 

“ Come, man, sit down.” 

A moment more Winkfield looked, at him, then suddenly 
started away. “ I have done what I could,” he muttered 
again. 

Doricot sprang after him. “ Come, Matt. Come, sit 
down to the plan.” 

“ No, I must go to the arsenal. I — it. is an order. I 
dare not stay.” 

“ Have with you then ! ” 

Again Winkfield stared at him before he spoke. “ No, 
it is not safe. You must stay here. Keep close. You 
must not go out. It is not safe.” 

“ S'il vous plait'' Doricot shrugged. “ When you come 
back, then.” 


132 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Winkfield laughed drearily. ‘‘ When I come back ! 
Then he looked round the room and gave a start. ‘‘ Why, 
where’s the other — the big fellow ? Where has he gone? ” 

“ Diccon? ” Doricot looked. “ Oh, after some mischief! 
It’s a roguish lad. But never fear. Diccon can take care 
of himself.” 

“ I will send a nigger after him,” said Winkfield nerv- 
ously, ‘‘ lest he come to harm — lest he come to harm,” 
and hurried out. He was so interested in Dick that he sent 
three. 

Dick Rymingtowne was no further away than the near- 
est heap of stones. That is doubtless why they did not 
find him. He saw them range away among the ruined 
houses, heard them chattering questions he did not under- 
stand, and guessed that they were looking for him, and 
chuckled. He saw Winkfield go off at a pace that was al- 
most a run, and was pleased with himself. It is not to be 
supposed that he had any foresight of what was to happen, 
that he guessed what was in Winkfield’s mind, or the object 
of his errand. If you ask why he slunk out of the room, 
and why he wanted to hide, the only answer is that Wink- 
field bred in him suspicion. He had not any notion what 
Mr. Winkfield had been doing or what he was likely to do. 
He was entirely certain that the man had done something 
he was ashamed of, and if he saw his account in doing the 
like again, would not hesitate. Therefore Dick preferred 
to watch him from a convenient distance. To the prosper- 
ous end of his life, after much varied business with rascals, 
Dick Rymingtowne preserved for Matt Winkfield his bit- 
terest contempt. Not because the man was a dirtier rascal 
than others, but because he was a rascal ashamed of his 
rascality, a rascal who kept his conscience alive for the sake 
of being uncomfortable. 

Dick waited among the ruins, saw the negroes go back 
to the house, and the door shut behind them, and waited 
still while the twilight faded into dark. It had not been 


MATT WINKFIELD 


133 


dark long before there came from the city a close marching 
company. To the door of the house they came and halted, 
and Dick, peering through the gloom, saw weapons. When 
the door opened the light fell upon steel. They passed 
quickly in. 

Perhaps he had a wild chivalrous impulse to rush to his 
friends, shout alarm, join them for better or worse. He 
was still young. It is more likely that he congratulated 
himself on his good sense in having run away. He was 
always passionately practical. Whatever was in his head, 
he lay still. He heard a little shouting, a little noise, and 
then out from the house the armed men came again, 'but 
more slowly, in some disorder. It was plain that they 
had in their midst prisoners who were giving trouble. The 
sound of threats and blows and scuffling broke the tramp 
of the march. Slowly they made for the city again, and 
were lost in the night. It may be that Dick thought for a 
moment of rushing upon them, and daring the mad chance 
of a surprise. It is much more likely that he was thinking 
exclusively of Matt Winkfield. 

For he understood very well what had happened. The 
excellent Winkfield must have hurried to the city to bring 
down the Turkish soldiery on Doricot, to get him safely 
chained in the bagnio. Why ? There were reasons enough 
obvious. It was plain that by some trick of treachery 
Winkfield had won for himself the favour and bounty of 
the Turks, no less plain that he was afraid of any free 
Englishman coming to know of his prosperity. He had 
something foul to hide. He would be ready to bury Dori- 
cot alive for that. It was plain, too, that he was afraid 
Doricot’s coming might make the Turks suspicious — afraid 
that Doricot might involve him in some dangerous venture. 
It was mere self-preservation to betray Doricot swiftly. 
Dick Rymingtowne, I suppose, might have admired the cold 
villainy of a man’s selling to slavery the friend who had 
put life in peril to rescue him from that. But Dick hap- 


134 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


pened to be engaged on the other side, and he never denied 
a debt of friendship or hate or cash. Also, the sickly con- 
science, the nervousness of Winkfield annoyed him vastly. 
So of Matt Winkfield he thought very hard, and from one 
of the gardens he stole a meal of cucumbers and onions and 
went to sleep. 

For some days his history is a tale of petty theft and 
burglary. He was too cautious to go into the city by day- 
light, but he made up for his idleness after dark. What 
he stole I do not certainly know, for his papers are only 
explicit about two knives, whereof one, ivory-hilted and 
chased, is still in his family. He liked the knife as a 
weapon. But we should be wronging him to suppose that 
when he played the burglar he failed to find any money. 
The days he spent lurking in the Catacombs, where he was 
only disturbed by mice and a weasel. He lived well enough 
on the stuff in the gardens. 

He did not try to learn anything of Doricot or the others. 
He kept himself well away from Winkfield. But when he 
went into the city at dusk his eyes and his ears were wide 
open. That the slaves who worked on the ships and the 
mole were driven into the bagnio before dark he could in- 
deed have guessed without seeing. It was something to 
know that the bagnio mounted neither guard nor sentinels, 
but he could hardly hope to storm it by himself. Though 
its slaves were guarded by nothing but walls and gates and 
a few warders, no trick that he could think of would give 
him the keys. The soldiery which garrisoned the forts and 
gave the galleys their fighting men seemed to live in a loose 
discipline. They furnished, of course, companies to march 
the slaves down to work, to guard them while they worked, 
and to march them back again. Save for that, they seemed 
to go where they chose and do what they chose, which was 
chiefly nothing. They lounged and slept anywhere and 
everywhere. 

When he had given Winkfield some days of quiet, time to 


MATT WINKFIELD 


135 


believe that the man who escaped was of no importance, 
he began to lurk about the house again. That placid wait- 
ing, those thoughtful burglaries express his character well. 
He never spoilt anything by haste. He never weakened 
in purpose by delay. It was some days more before he 
found his chance. Again and again Winkfield passed by 
daylight and with slaves behind him. There was a night 
at last when he came home alone. He had been drinking, 
to judge of his gait, something not allowed by the Koran. 
Dick rose at his side, struck him on the temple with a 
knife's hilt, and caught him as he fell stunned. He was 
dragged aside among the ruins; he was gagged and bound 
with his own turban; Dick hoisted him like a sack and 
carried him away to the Catacombs. 

When Winkfield came to himself he was in a tomb hewn 
from the rock. Moonlight streaming through a small hole 
above suggested infinite space of gloom, and falling upon 
Dick’s head as he sat eating a pumpkin, endowed him with 
an incongruous sanctity. Winkfield stirred in his bonds 
and, still unaware of them, did not understand why he 
could not move. He stared at Dick and tried to speak, 
and hardly understood why he only spluttered. Dick heard 
him and took off the gag. 

‘‘ What is it ? ” said Winkfield feebly, and then was sur- 
prised to hear himself talking English. 

“ We’m making a beginning,” quoth Dick cheerfully, and 
went on with his pumpkin. 

Winkfield stammered at him. 

“ You — you — you are the lad who came with Dori- 
cot?” 

Ay, your mind’s working,” Dick encouraged him. 

Winkfield seemed suddenly to feel his bonds. He 
writhed and cried out: 

“ Let me loose, you rascal ! ” 

‘‘ Nay, but ’tis not working well,” Dick complained. 
“ Why should I tie you up if I was to let you loose now? ” 


136 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


ril have you under the bastinado/’ Winkfield cried. 
“ ril have you on the hooks for it.” Dick threw a piece 
of pumpkin skin at him and went on eating. “ You dull 
lout!” Winkfield screamed with an oath. “You're cut- 
ting your own throat. You fool! All my slaves, I tell 
you, all the city will be seeking me.” 

“ Well, this burrow was some old fellow's grave.” Dick 
spoke with his mouth full. “ 'Twill do mighty well for 
yourn.” 

“Do you mean to kill me?'*’' Winkfield cried. Dick 
went on eating. “ Why, what have I done to you? I say, 
how will it serve you?” 

“ Aw,” Dick chuckled, “ to be sure it would be a com- 
fort. Look ’e, my lad, if you've a mind to stay alive you'll 
ha' need to be mighty useful. For I’ Id sooner kill ’e than 
not. Just for the sake of it. So, now, what ha’ you done 
with your little friend Nick Doricot?” 

Winkfield protested, calling more than once on the name 
of God that he had done nothing to Doricot, knew nothing 
of him. Dick stared at him and nodded. 

“ Ay, ay, you've a mind to be no use. And to be sure 
I like it best so.” 

He took out a knife and tried its edge on his thumb. 

“ What do you mean ? ” Winkfield screamed. “ He is in 
the bagnio with the others. What is that to me ? I could 
not help it. I could not save him. You do not understand. 
I am a slave myself.” 

“ In the bagnio with the others ! ” Dick repeated. “ He 
is alive, then ? ” 

“ How do I know ? I dare not so much as ask. Why, 
he has made them suspect me. He has ruined me. He — ” 

“You rat!” quoth Dick, “you'ld sell your soul to be 
sure he was dead. Look ’e, now, you put un into the 
bagnio. 'Tis for you to find a way to get him out. And 
if you do not, you shall die in this grave here.” 

“ Get him out ? ” Winkfield gasped in astonishment un- 


MATT WINKFIELD 


137 


feigned. ‘‘You are mad.” Then he checked suddenly, 
and drew in his breath. Nay, but i’ faith, I will do what 
I can. I will petition the bashaw. I will spend my last 
zecchin. But I had begun upon that already, I promise 
you. I had been about it all day. Why, I had good hopes 
of Hassan, the secretary, who is much my friend.” He 
laughed nervously. “ Why, you are mighty hard on your 
friends. As if it needed all this to make me work for Nick 
Doricot! Why, my friend, I was desperate when I heard 
they had tracked him to my house and taken him there. 
I swore I would never rest nor spare nothing till I had 
him free.” 

At this point Dick interrupted with a hearty kick. 

“ I could break your neck for thinking me fool enough 
to believe all that. Why, I wouldn’t trust ’e a moment, 
unless I had ’e where I could kill ’e quietly. Don’t ’e think 
to be let go, my lad, not till Doricot’s out o’ prison. What 
you ha’ to do is to tell me how I may get him out. Then 
off I go and do it. And if you do bungle it so that I never 
come back, why, you’ll never get out of this grave neither.” 

Winkfield screamed at him. It was all folly, wildest 
folly. No slave ever came out of the slavery of the bagnio 
alive. For one man, a Christian, an Englishman, who was 
like a baby in that city, to think of tampering with the 
bagnio, which was strong as the Tower, was the maddest 
madness. Then he became insinuating, and urged again 
his affection, his devotion to Doricot, his influence with the 
Turks, the certainty that if he were let go the business 
would be swiftly done. Why, it was a cruel wrong to 
Doricot that his efforts should be hampered. And here 
Dick kicked him again. 

Then he began to whine. What could he do? How 
could he help? It was impossible that Dick could come at 
Doricot or get him out. And to leave a man there to starve 
in a grave — in agony, too! for he was so bound that all 
his limbs throbbed and stung — it was cruel, cruel, cruel. 


138 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

Here you bide, and here you starve, and here you suf- 
fer, I do hope,” quoth Dick, “ till I have him out. So best 
find a way.” 

Then he began to sob. That was too much for Dick, 
who fell on him and beat him, and gagged him again. To 
the sound of his muffled moaning Dick fell asleep. So 
passed that first night in the Catacombs. 


CHAPTER XII 


DORICOT RECEIVES ENLIGHTENMENT 

It is to be supposed that Winkfield suffered in body and 
mind all right through, but not so much — not so much in 
mind, at least — as Doricot. For Doricot had received en- 
lightenment that day. 

When first the three were brought to the bagnio they were 
stripped and flung into a big dark hall, where other naked 
men lay huddled close as pigs and in pig-sty filth. Then 
the alderman grumbled : 

“ Here’s the end of another of your pretty plans. Oh, 
you’re a clever, clever fool!” 

Doricot had no answer. 

But when the boatswain grunted out, “ Well, now, that 
dear little friend of yourn has done mighty well by we. 
’Tis a bright fellow, to be sure. ’Tis not every man would 
ha’ thought upon selling the folks that come to fish him 
out o’ the water. And I do hope he had a good price for 
we. rid not like to think I was sold cheap,” then Doricot 
struck at him, was beaten off, and struck again. There 
came all the while from Doricot’s mouth a sputter of blas- 
phemy. It was in no wise to be supposed that Winkfield 
had sold them. No man who was better than a mound of 
flesh would so suppose. Matt Winkfield was a hearty, 
trusty fellow, and the best sea captain alive. He would 
surely stand by them manfully — unless — unless he was in 
trouble himself. Doricot much feared that they had 
brought suspicion upon him. At which the boatswain guf- 
fawed, and the fight began again. 

139 


140 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


It was only quieted by the men about them, who cursed 
and beat them both impartially for disturbing sleep. The 
dispute was resumed in the morning by the boatswain tell- 
ing his tale to a neighbour with heavy insinuations against 
Winkfield, interrupted by corrective abuse from Doricot. 
But none of their neighbours, who were all Spaniards, 
cared the least about them or their fate or their quarrel or 
Winkfield. So argument languished. 

For some days they lay in the bagnio, fed on a pittance 
of tasteless green bread and stinking water. There was 
nothing to do but wallow in the filth and long for the hour 
when the armed gaolers came with baskets and pitchers. 
Then, partly from hunger, in part from simple, weary 
hatred of each other, they would fight over the sharing. 
But when Doricot grumbled, his neighbours cursed him 
and bade him be thankful. It was better, they told him, 
to lie there and fester and rot than work naked beneath 
the sun and the whips. And he would have work enough 
and whip enough, for it was the end of the summer, and 
the galleys were coming to harbour, and each must be 
hauled up the beach, each hull scoured. 

A morning came when they were aroused with whips and 
pikes, and driven down to the beach. There they hauled 
at the cables with sobbing lungs, with pulses thudding in 
head and heart like blows, with back bleeding deep from 
the leather thongs, and the sun searing the wounds till 
half-a-dozen galleys were high upon the sand. Then they 
tore the flesh from their hands in scouring the long hulls 
clean of weed and shell. 

At noon, when they were let leave their work for a me?!, 
they fell down on the sand where they stood and lay with 
heaving sides, heedless of each other or of anything in the 
world save the moment of rest. Here and there a man 
would wriggle jerkily like a dog when it has run itself out; 
and for a while they were dumb as dogs. The fragments 
of the maize and bean flour bread passed from listless 


DORICOT IS ENLIGHTENED 141 

hand to hand. Bodies quivering with strain and burning 
with thirst had no hunger. But when pumpkins were 
tossed among them there was something of a struggle. By 
the oaths about him Doricot knew that he had fallen among 
Englishmen, and said so. 

“English be you?’’ quoth one. “How then? The 
heathen ha’ brought in no English ship this many months. 
And you be new. How did they catch you ? ^ 

“ Ask Captain Matt Winkfield,” said the boatswain with 
a grimace at Doricot. 

On the word there was a stir of interest about them and 
blasphemy. 

“ What ! Master Matt’s done some more business, has 
he ? ” one said. “ Come, let’s hear.” 

Doricot’s face was white behind the sweat. 

“ Do you know Matt Winkfield, then?” 

“ Od rot his soul! We was in his ship.” 

“ Let’s hear, my bully,” the boatswain cried. “ Story 
for story. ’Tis you to begin. You come here first.” 

“ Story, d’ye say ? ” a swarthy fellow growled. “ There’s 
no story, you fool. We was in his ship off Candia, when 
four galleys come down upon us. ’Twas a southerly wind, 
and we on a lee shore. To be sure, there was naught to 
be done; but Master Winkfield he never tried for to do it. 
He had his white flag up almost afore they was aboard. 
And the next thing we knows is us in the chains heaving 
at the oars of they galleys while Master Winkfield’s up on 
her poop hobnobbing with the heathen as fine as a peacock. 
How did he do it, says you? We made that out when we 
saw the galleys was making nor’-west. For our consort, 
the Providence, that had gone to Chio after red Malmsey, 
was to join with us to westward. So the galleys had her 
too, as here’s Johnny Entwistle and Roger Back, that was 
in her, to tell, saving that she made a stout fight for it. 
For she had old Gilbert Hale to her master, and no filthy 
renegado. Now here we be living the life of them that’s 


142 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


in hell, while Matt Winkfield has his palace and his harem 
like a bashaw. Od rot his soul ! ’’ 

The boatswain nudged Doricot. Here’s your friend 
that we come a-saving ! ” 

‘'D’ye tell me he sold his consort?” said Doricot dully. 

The swarthy man cursed him for a fool, and Winkfield 
by many other names. “ I tell ye he sold his soul for to 
save his stinking body. How did he do it ? He would not 
fight his ship, he made himself a filthy Mussulman, he 
showed them how to catch his consort. He’s great among 
the heathen now by what he knows o’ Christian ships, 
and where to watch for them. God send him swift to his 
account ! ” 

Doricot said nothing. Even his friendship could not 
doubt the tale. He drew himself together and sat pale and 
breathing hard. 

With a passionate cry the alderman struck at him. 

“ That’s the man that you brought us here for.” 

Doricot did not strike back. There was a great roar of 
laughter, and, “ You come out o’ England for Matt Wink- 
field’s sake ! ” more laughter and more. Doricot sat silent, 
and in the heat he shivered a little. 

Then the whistles sounded and they were lashed to their 
work again. But from that hour Doricot was, the butt of 
all the slaves. 

It may be some satisfaction to remember that when the 
next morning dawned there was a man making Matt Wink- 
field his butt, a man without mercy for what he hated. In 
the tomb where Dick Rymingtowne had his prisoner the 
morning brought little more light than the moon. Dick 
woke late, stretched himself, remembered the situation with 
a chuckle, and turned round to look at Winkfield. Wink- 
field was asleep breathing stertorously. Dick shook him, 
and he gave what would have been a yell but for the gag. 
Dick plucked the gag off and he began to cry. Dick had 


DORICOT IS ENLIGHTENED 


143 

been cruel to shake him so ; he had pains shooting through 
all his limbs; it would kill him to be kept bound. 

It hurts me so, it hurts me so ! ’’ 

Dick laughed and bade him cry louder. 

For a while he did, and then the screams and sobs .shrank 
into a whimper, as a child’s rage shrinks, and he pled piti- 
fully again. 

“ I’ll let you loose when I get Doricot loose, my lad. 
Ha’ you found a way? No? To be sure, I begin to think 
the grave is yourn ! ” 

He wailed again at that, till Dick thrust the gag upon 
him, and, bade him think if he wanted to stay alive. 

“ You find me a way to come at Doricot by to-night, my 
lad, or I’ll make an end of you, for you’ll be no use to me.” 

Therewith Dick turned and hauled himself out of the 
tomb. He did not think that any of Winkfield’s friends, 
however much they might miss him, would be looking for 
him among the Catacombs. But it was as well to make 
sure. 

He did make sure and saw none. When he came back 
Winkfield writhed at him and spluttered. ‘‘ Oh, you ha’ 
been thinking, ha’ you? ” said Dick, and pulled out the gag. 
But Winkfield only begged for water. Dick thrust pump- 
kin pulp into his mouth. “ Maybe that’s the last you’ll 
taste, my lad.” 

But when Winkfield had gulped it down he began to 
speak to some purpose. There was a man, a Spaniard, 
Valdez by name, who had been taken from the bagnio to 
serve the treasurer, Ibrahim, and though still a slave was 
permitted to keep a victualling house. Thereto resorted 
others in like case, slaves in the service of private masters, 
allowed some liberty. Winkfield believed that this Valdez, 
for all his prosperity, was ill affected to the Turks. If 
any could help Dick to break the bagnio it was certainly 
he. 


144 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Dick whistled. It might very well be a trap. “ Look 
’e, my lad, I’ve a mind to your Valdez. But if I never 
come back, you’ll lie here and rot. Will I go?” 

Winkfield hesitated. God help me, what else can I 
say ? ” he cried, and began to sob again. Dick looked at 
him critically and gagged him again, and suddenly, inspired 
by another idea, searched him and found a good deal of 
money. With that he went off. 

He was wary in approaching the city, and came to it 
from the east, but once in he went boldly. None could 
know him but Winkfield. As he came to the western har- 
bour he stopped suddenly. On the beach a long line of 
galleys lay careened. One only was afloat, and that one 
lay by the mole, close to the bagnio. At last it seemed that 
he had fortune on his side. 

The victualling house of Valdez was close by. Dick 
went in and found some three or four men whose race he 
could not guess, save that they were European, sitting sul- 
lenly over wine. He asked for a flagon in English and they 
stared at him, surprised, suspicious, not understanding. 

Then one spoke : What’s an English tongue to do 

here, brother? ” 

“ I’m asking you,” said Dick, and put his order into the 
patois he had learnt from Doricot. 

We want no strangers here,” quoth Valdez. 

He was a short man and even in the loose eastern dress 
which he wore like all the rest he looked slim. But his 
movements had a catlike ease and something of a cat’s 
intense, energy. ‘‘No room for strangers here, Chris- 
tian.” 

“ ’Tis so jolly a life that you have to yourselves,” Dick 
put down a gold piece. “You’ld have none know how 
merry you be. Would you, my bullies?” he laughed 
grimly. “ Well drink with me, God help you.” Slowly, 
watching him with ill will Valdez put mugs on the table. 
Dick looked the company over. They had all left youth 


DORICOT IS ENLIGHTENED 145 

behind. All bore the scars of hard fighting and harder 
endurance. Yet it was plain that they had not surrendered. 
There was strength in them still and a silent, sullen cour- 
age. They were still combatant of soul. Matt Winkfield’s 
cunning or Matt Winkfield’s timid malice had taught him 
to judge them right. Dick poured the wine and lifted his 
mug and took his life in his hand. What’s your will ? 
Hell to Mahound ? ” 

There was a stir and a rustle among them. You put 
on a bold brag, my lad,” one said. 

“ Or may be you are a damned villain,” quoth Valdez. 

“ Why, then, will you hale me to the bashaw ? ” Dick 
grinned. 

“What do you want of us?” Valdez cried. 

“ Is there any man here hath a mind to a Christian 
country ? ” Dick filled the mugs again. “ Here’s to sea- 
faring, my bullies ! ” 

“ How o’ God’s name came you here ? ” the Englishman 
cried in English. 

“Would you hear a fond tale?” Dick laughed, and he 
told them of Doricot’s wild venture, of the voyage in the 
open boat and Winkfield’s treachery, and as he told, they 
broke out in oaths against the folly of Doricot and the 
meanness of the traitor. But they took fire, they grew rest- 
less, they began to argue together of what might have been, 
of what should have been, of what might be yet. When 
at last he came to the capture of Winkfield and his slow 
torture in the Catacombs they were eager, ebullient, fero- 
cious. “ So at last he found his tongue. And to you he 
sent me for men who would bid the devil go hang, for men 
like me and my captain, who’ll dare the forts of hell. Now, 
my bullies, was the knave right? Have you heart in you 
yet? Will you back me? Will you see Christendom again? 
Or are ye Winkfield’s kidney? Or is it away with me to 
the bashaw and lie quiet?” 

“What do , you want of us?” said Valdez again. 


146 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ To break the bagnio,” Dick said and hurried on before 
stupefaction sank in. “ Those men o’ mine inside will 
gnaw it down with their teeth but they’ll be out. There’s 
a man here,” he grinned, “ that has a use for any who be 
tired o’ slaving to the heathen.” 

Valdez cried out to the Mother of God that he was mad. 

Dick became cold and practical. Not for nothing had 
he prowled the city through night after night. It was 
swiftly apparent that he knew Alexandria better than they 
who had long been its slaves. 

“ Look ’e now,” said he, “ there’s no guard at the bagnio 
o’ nights. There’s naught but a handful o’ warders and 
bolts and bars to keep the slaves in.” 

“ Ay, naught but that and the forts, which are full of 
soldiers,” Valdez sneered. 

“ Are they so ? ” Dick took him up quickly. I would 
ha’ said they pretty soldiers was anywhere but in the forts. 
All over the city they be at their private pleasures. It 
would take you an hour to muster a hundred. Well?” 

“ Well, tell me something that we need telling,” quoth 
Valdez. 

“ Then I tell you you be fools to be here. Why, you ha’ 
only to cut down a gaoler or so, and you have the keys — 
you have the slaves out. And then — why, then, there is 
but one galley afloat, and all the other's high and dry.” 

“ ’Tis always so in the autumn,” said the Englishman 
dully. I ha’ seen it this ten year. They do always leave 
one afloat when they careen the fleet — for their letters and 
such like. The Captain of Alexandria they do call her.” 

'‘You ha’ seen it this ten year, God help you!” Dick 
said. “And never seen how to use it! Captain of Alex- 
andria, God bless her ! Why, my lad, get the slaves aboard 
that galley, and we’ll be safe in a Christian land in a week. 
There’s none to follow us with all the other craft high and 
dry. Ha’ you any weapons, now ? ” He laid more gold 
on the table. 


DORICOT IS ENLIGHTENED 147 

They stared at him stupefied. They were back on earth 
again. The very brilliance of the plan appalled their slow 
minds. The thought of action chained them again in the 
lethargy of slavery. He saw soon that there was nothing 
to be made of them that night. Perhaps he did not see 
how much power his confident energy had upon them. 

When he went back to the tomb he was well enough 
pleased to give Winkfield a whole cucumber, to listen with 
something like patience while Winkfield pled pathetically 
to be let go, to answer genially: 

‘‘ You wait awhile, my lad. We’m doing well.’’ 

Winkfield was silent a moment, and then said : 

“Valdez had a mind to join with you?” Dick nodded. 
“ I knew that fellow was a traitor,’' Winkfield muttered. 

At that Dick gave himself to laughter. 

But Winkfield had still days and nights to spend tied up 
in the tomb. Dick had to go often to the squalid little vic- 
tualling house by the harbour before the plan was made 
and the men who were to work it persuaded. 


CHAPTER XIII 


OUT OF PRISON 

It was a moonless night when swaying at a rope’s end 
Matt Winkfield came above ground again. He breathed 
the clean air noisily, plaintively, but won no pity thereby. 
Dick bade him not cough like a sheep. 

His legs were then loosed but not his agonised arms, the 
gag was left in his mouth. Dick took a grip on his girdle 
and, ‘‘ Now march,” said he, and if you try to break from 
me my knife’s in your spine.” But there was little fear 
of that. Winkfield could hardly walk. Each step fetched 
out a groan and he had to be driven on by the knife point. 
So through lonely byways they came to the victualling 
house. Four men received Winkfield and thrust him in 
and locked the door after him. 

Then they made for the bagnio. There were none on the 
quays to give them challenge. The forts were silent as 
the city. Only the beacon far off at the harbour mouth 
broke the dark peace of the night. 

Valdez knew the keeper of the bagnio. He beat upon 
the gate and cried his name. When the wicket was opened 
and the man looked out with his lantern : ‘‘ Ho, you, Ali,” 

said Valdez glibly, “ here’s the Englishman, Fox, that is 
let out to Mahomet Beg, the master of the city, hath an 
order to you. Let us in by your favour. It’s more cattle 
he wants in the morning.” The keeper let the wicket swing 
and stepped aside. Then the company of them rushed in 
and they cut him down before he could put his horn to his 
lips. As he fell he gasped out, ‘‘ Valdez, Valdez, you have 
eaten my salt ! ” 


148 


OUT OF PRISON 


149 


But Valdez hissed at him: “Leech, leech, you are fat 
with my blood these ten years,” and stabbed him again and 
led on. 

As they came into the great courtyard warders met them 
on the round and in some amazement held lanterns high 
crying : “ Who’s there ? Who are you from the city ? ” 

“ Friends all,” quoth Valdez and sprang at them. 

They too were hewn down but not so silently. There 
were shouts of alarm and panic. When the little com- 
pany had made an end of them and came to the keeper’s 
house they found the rest of the warders afoot or rousing. 
Then came the hardest of the fight. But Dick and his com- 
pany were ready, resolute, desperate and the warders taken 
unawares, drowsy and half-bewildered. It was soon over. 

Then Valdez sent back a man to drag the great gates 
apart and wedge them wide as when the slaves were 
marched out to their tasks. With the rest he rushed on 
and flung open door after door of the bagnio shouting to 
the sleeping slaves in one language and another : “ Out, 

out, the prison is broke ! ” and as the wild flood surged out 
the word was passed: “To the quay, to the galley, the 
Captain of Alexandria.'^ 

But in the midst of the seething crowd Dick stood and 
roared again and again, “ Doricot, Nick Doricot and the 
Toby's men! ” and he held a lantern high. 

Through the loud darkness through the storming press 
of men they came to him at last. Doricot was laughing 
like a madman, and he clung about Dick and babbled. Dick 
held him off with an oath of surprise, and crying, “ On 
to the gate, now ! ” charged through the crowd. 

They were out among the first, for Dick was without 
mercy, and the alderman and the boatswain behind him 
wrought mightily. They held together, and the rest of 
that mad army thrust each for himself. By the gate they 
found Valdez and his three, who' sprang to Dick’s shout. 

“To the galley! Away with you!” (juoth Dick, and 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


150 

with Valdez at his heels ran to the victualling house. The 
door was flung open. Valdez snatched a skin of wine. 
Dick snatched Winkfield. Together they ran amid the 
wave of naked men that surged down to the harbour. 

Aboard the one floating galley they came. In a moment 
she was freighted deep. They killed the watchman with 
their hands. They crowded to the oar benches, had the 
great oars out, stunning one another in their haste, and 
rowed as they had never rowed beneath the whip. Valdez 
and his men held the poop. Dick raged among the oarsmen. 

Lights were waking in the forts. A gun thundered out, 
and another, but already the galley was beyond the mole. 
As she rose to the swell of the open sea lights came down 
to the beach ; they heard shouts of command, and the groan 
of hulls upon the sand. The Turks were for launching 
their galleys. But all their galleys were dismantled, their 
slaves were fled. When dawn broke over the dark sea the 
galley of the slaves was alone. 

It was then that the oarsmen dared a spell of respite. 
Then they set the great lateen sails and steered west of 
north. It was then that Dick hauled out of the den be- 
neath the oar-deck Matt Winkfield, and cut his bonds, and 
drove him into the cabin where Doricot sat. But as they 
passed the benches came a yell of rage, and men of Wink- 
field’s ship rushed after them. 

Winkfield heard and saw, and fled before them scream- 
ing. So into the cabin he came with naked men after him, 
wild as hounds, and he flung himself upon Doricot, who 
sat huddled on the divan clutching Dick’s doublet about 
his lean nakedness and stared like a man in a trance. 
Winkfield could not speak anything to be understood. He 
twitched and slobbered wordless cries. 

The alderman and Valdez and the rest of the cabin com- 
pany jeered at him. With a pike snatched from the wall, 
Dick hardly kept back the men of his crew, 


OUT OF PRISON 


151 

‘‘Let be, let be! Here’s the man to give him his quit- 
tance. Let be, I say 1 ” 

But they roared out threats of torture. 

Doricot raised himself and seemed to wake, and put the 
man from him. 

“ Why, that’s Matt Winkfield, which I came for all the 
way from Bristol town. You sold me to be a slave. Matt 
Winkfield. I thought I was your friend. How many 
Christian men ha’ you sold to the heathen?” 

There was no anger in his voice. 

Winkfield cowered down and sobbed out words of no 
meaning. 

“ Give him a sword,” Doricot said. He held out his 
hand to Valdez. Gaping, Valdez drew the scimitar from 
his side. Doricot thrust the hilt into Winkfield’s hand, 
who stared at it, and then stared up at Doricot with the 
face of an imbecile. “ Give me a sword,” Doricot said, 
and the boatswain took one from the cabin wall. Then 
Doricot drew back a pace, and suddenly, in his fierce voice 
of captaincy — it was the last time Dick heard it — he 
cried out, “ Stand up and fight, Matt.” 

Winkfield rose unsteadily, looking all the while with that 
horrible mindless stare at Doricot. Doricot struck at his 
sword and it shook. Doricot gave a whirling blow past 
his eyes. Then he staggered towards Doricot, and Doricot 
stepped aside and cut down at him where the throat joins 
the shoulder. He fell down and was covered in his blood. 

“ It is finished,” said Doricot, and sat down and hud- 
dled himself together. 

That was the manner of the saving of Matt Winkfield. 
And on the third day out from Alexandria Doricot died. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE RETREAT 

The first land they saw was Crete. BeTore that they 
were in trial and misery ” for lack of victuals. Yet it 
seems that they stood heartily by each other, the strong 
yielding rations to the weak, no man making mischief or 
schism. This Richard Rymingtowne, who had perhaps a 
low estimate of human nature, records with odd, surprised 
enthusiasm. Plainly it seemed strange to him that men 
who had been delivered from an evil plight only to find 
new woes should not repine and rebel. But the much- 
mixed crew — there were men of every Christian race 
among them — made the best of their ship and of every- 
thing and came safely to Gallipoli. 

There the prior of the monastery and his monks wel- 
comed them with zeal as heroes of the cause of the Cross, 
which perhaps they were, and they were “ well refreshed 
and eased.” After that, they found themselves in huge 
spirits and romantic plans seemed natural. A great party 
of them talked of arming the galley and spending their 
lives in her fighting the Turk. For this, they urged, was 
but to fulfil a Christian duty wherein they foresaw great 
comfort. For they could avenge on the bodies of Turk- 
ish slaves what they had suffered. But others were anx- 
ious for home and kin if any yet remained to them, or for 
rest in a Christian land. It seems that Dick Rymingtowne 
inclined to the romantic party. At least he writes of their 
enthusiasm with a geniality rare in his austere narrative 
and he dismisses them with what is rarer, something like 


THE RETREAT 


153 

a sneer at himself. It hath ever been my temper to be- 
lieve in the grave fellows and die in my bed.” 

I suppose that he found that there were not enough of 
the romantics for a prosperous venture, or that he would 
not be as great a man among them as he thought neces- 
sary, or perhaps on reflection he did not like the look of 
them. At least you have it that his voice was for the 
compromise which took the galley to Malta. 

Since some wanted to fight the Turk and some to get 
home again, Malta was obviously the golden mean. There 
the romantics could take service under the Knights of St. 
John, thence the rest could easily find passage to their own 
countries, there the galley could be sold at a good price 
and all put something in their pockets. So it was done, 
and from Malta Dick Rymingtowne and the boatswain and 
the alderman took ship for Genoa. 

The two elders were in a hurry to see England again 
and there seems to have been some quarrelling. At least, 
I suppose they made the quarrel, and Dick grinned. For 
they could do little without him. With his knack of learn- 
ing any trick that was useful he had picked up from Dori- 
cot enough of one language or another to hold his own 
in any Christian port of the Mediterranean. Beyond Eng- 
lish, the elders knew little but an oath or two. There was 
no English ship homeward bound in Genoa and they had 
to wait for what Dick Rymingtowne chose to contrive. 
He was in no hurry. 

I must believe that he had desire enough to look at Mary 
Rymingtowne again. But a home-coming then could not 
be the home-coming of his ambitions. You are not to 
suppose that he had snatched nothing out of Alexandria. 
He is very reticent about the business, but I infer that he 
had acquired by those nocturnal exploits a bosom full of 
little eastern things, odd or rare, and he found a good mar- 
ket for them in Genoa. At least, he talks of traffics there, 
^nd what can be have b^d to traffie in but 5Ucb matters as 


154 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


came from those Alexandrian burglaries and were borne 
on his person? But however much he made out of them, 
he had certainly not enough to bring him back in the tri- 
umph he intended. It is plain that thus far he considered 
himself a failure. You may guess that he was in no tem- 
per to go any man^s way but his own. 

So he kept them waiting till he had made an end of his 
traffics ” and I doubt if they had any of the profits. 
When they started homeward it was, against their will, 
overland and on charity. In his chaffering with jewellers, 
Dick came upon a young gentleman of Somerset, Roger 
Melcombe, who was, according to the fashion, adorning 
himself with all the graces of Italy. To Mr. Melcombe 
Dick told the tale of three West Country men, the only 
begetters of the great deed at Alexandria, triumphant cham- 
pions of Christendom, now penniless, seeking painfully 
their own land again. Mr. Melcombe made them of his 
party and at his luxurious leisure marched them across 
France. 

Of course they could have found a ship. Why Dick 
chose the slow march of a gentleman studying the world 
I cannot tell. I do not suspect him of any passion for 
seeing cities and men. He may have intended some more 
small ‘‘ traffics ” in Milan or Paris. He may have thought 
that something of profit might meet him on the way. Per- 
haps it is most likely that as it was not then so sure how 
long the new Queen Elizabeth would sit upon her throne, 
how soon the half French Mary of Scots would oust her, 
or what ventures from France might trouble the English 
peace, he thought it worth a practical man’s while to find 
out what these French folks were like. 

Whatever he had in his head, across France he went with 
his shipmates and it was many a month before they saw 
the English shore. On Southampton quay he parted from 
Mr. Melcombe who pronounced him the usefullest fellow 
that ever a man knew and gave him twenty pounds. All 


THE RETREAT 


155 


which generosity Dick took with a grin and lent the aider- 
man five pounds of it to buy him breeches and a passage 
for Bristol. The poor man was now rampant for his busi- 
ness. The boatswain concluded to stand by Dick in which 
choice he was not encouraged. It does not appear that he 
ever repented. 


CHAPTER XV 


GOLD VELVET 

She came from a copse of silver-birch and daffodils. A 
west wind was blowing through the sunshine, and the great 
shoulders of the downs stood grey beneath cloud shadows. 
To northward the valley was dim behind the gauze of a 
swift shower. About her it shone and sparkled and 
glowed. There was light in the foam of the spring flood 
that surged down the brook, and even the turbid white 
depths flashed and gleamed. The meadow grass was lus- 
trous and the million flowers among it flamed bright as, 
jewels. The trees bore their leaf-buds still, all rosy and 
gold and sea-spray green. A blackbird in a riotous wil- 
low mocked her as she came.* 

Mary Rymingtowne in this springtime felt herself very 
much a woman. She was tall enough for any woman, to 
be sure, and of a gait as royal as the most womanly 
woman’s. Even in her cloak she was slight. Its hood 
shadowed the grave, virginal charm of her face, kept the 
shimmering brown hair all but secret. She wore nothing 
fo give colour to her clear pallor. She was all silvery grey, 
save for a band of gold about the slim ankles. But from 
the hood her eyes shone and her lips were dark. 

She came upon a man who was only her father. She 
checked suddenly, and then recovered herself with impos- 
ing dignity. She looked at him as though she would ask 
how he dared exist. He laughed gently and made her a 
bow: 

‘‘ I ask pardon, madam.” 

15^ 


GOLD VELVET 


157 


** I do not know what you mean/’ 

“ I see that I ought not to be here. But, by your leave, 
I could not tell that you would be here to resent it. For 
you said you would stay with your books.” 

‘‘ I came to the end.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne opened his eyes wide. 

** Now, God ha’ mercy! I thought you were only at the 
beginning.” 

It is to be supposed that inside the hood she was blush- 
ing, for she turned half away, and she cried out with some 
petulance : 

“ I cannot tell what you mean.” 

Again Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. 

“ Then, indeed. I’ll not tell you. Prithee, may I walk 
with you? For I never saw a prettier child.” 

You will always talk to me like a child.” 

‘‘ My dear, the day will come when you’ll be glad enough 
of that. But, indeed, you are too much a child yet.” 
He looked at her with a whimsical smile, but she would 
not look at him. ‘‘Well! I am old enough to know when 
I am in the way, Mary. And yet — I came to remind 
you that I am in the way.” With which he touched his hat 
to her and passed on. 

She did not wait, she did not look after him, she went 
the other way hastily. By the brookside awhile, and then, 
where it wandered curling across the meadows, away 
through a thicket of hazel and up towards the downs she 
went, and up still by a hollow path where there was a 
gleam of primroses and the scent of violets. At first, 
though the hill rose steep against her, she was light of 
foot, but farther on, where the slope grew easier, she be- 
gan to labour and look behind her and all about. Then 
she stopped, and, faltering, went back a little, and turned 
again and came very slowly to a level place scooped in the 
' side of the down as though men had worked there in old 
years. It was all green, and in among the short close turf 


158 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


flowers sparkled. It was almost as sheltered as a cave, 
for the path curved sharply into it above and below, and 
only from the steep, bare brow of the overhanging down 
was there a chance to spy out who chose to linger there. 
She found no one. 

She hesitated, walked a little this way and that petu- 
lantly, then turned, and climbing the bank of the hollow 
path stood looking out over the vale, fronting the wind 
that bore back her cloak against her. 

A man came riding. As she turned he saw her there in 
the wind, and cried out: 

‘‘ Artemis ! Artemis that roams the mountains ! and 
bowed beautifully. 

Mary Rymingtowne came down from the bank. 

I do not know who this Artemis is, my lord,” she said. 

“ She was a maiden goddess, most beautiful, and you 
are she,” said my lord, and dismounted with too much 
grace. He was fine in a cloak of pale gold velvet, with 
all the rest of him to match. He stood as tall as she, and 
nearly as slight. He seemed to desire the fantastic even 
in the twirl of his little black beard. But there was plainly 
vigour enough in him and fire. It appears from other 
sources that my Lord Branscombe was one of the most 
decorated of the Italianate Englishmen who frightened his 
age. 

‘‘ I do not want to be a goddess. I want to be alive — 
I want to be real.” 

‘‘ Then have you your desire, i’ faith. For you have 
more life in you than the spring wind itself or its wild 
kissing rain. That is why all the world comes wooing you.” 

“Oh, I cry you mercy!” she laughed. “If I were so 
beset I had best go hang myself for the sake of peace. 
But I thank you, my lord,” she made him a little curtsey, 
“ there is none who so troubles me.” But her voice was 
not quite calm. 

“ Am I so cursed ? ” my lord cried. “ Can I not even 


GOLD VELVET 


159 


trouble you? That heart which abides in the beatitude of 
you, has it not yielded to beat one throb the quicker for 
me? Why then, out upon my loutish body, my Boeotian 
wit, that cannot show you what is in my soul! For I 
swear by Dan Orpheus, which was the greatest of all lovers, 
since the unhappiest he was, the soul of me is agonising for 
love of the joy of your life.” 

‘‘ Surfe, his out of an Italian poetry book?” she sug- 
gested demurely. 

“Ah, madame, I know you must mock me! IBs tjie 
royal right, it’s the most bewildering charm of you. That 
life that’s more than man’s life in you must ever make a 
mockery of the antics of men who pray and worship and 
love if by any means they may win something of your 
spirit. You must ever be cruel, in virtue of your wonder 
of womanhood. What am I, who long and yearn, but an 
awkward, gambolling fool to your sure surge of strength?” 
His voice rang well. 

“You call me strange names,” she said, and her bosom 
heaved. “ Nay, my lord, it is not so indeed. I am not 
strong at all. I cannot tell why you talk so of the life 
in me. I am all weak — and little. I — I do not know ” 
— her lip trembled and she looked at him with wide eyes, 
very wistful. “ It is you, it is you who mock, I think,” she 
said slowly. “ You make me feel like a child when grown 
folks laugh at it. You talk as I cannot understand — 
things I have not known, I have not felt. And I — I do 
not know. I am not sure. You are so much more than 
I am.” 

“ Infinitely little, infinitely humble before you ! ” he cried. 
He moved the reins on his arm and flung back his cloak 
and struck a gallant figure. “Yet with your spirit calling 
me to achievement 1 will be something in the world’s eye. 
I cry an answer to your challenge. I will make myself a 
power in England — ay, and beyond her seas. I swear 
it by the light in your eyes.” He caught her hand, but 


i6o THE SEA CAPTAIN 

she turned away. ‘‘ Look at me ! Look at me ! Why, 
you are not afraid?’’ There was exultation not the least 
fantastic in his voice. 

But she turned and met his eyes full and fair. 

‘‘ I am not afraid,” she said, and her face was quite calm, 
but wistful still. 

On a sudden his horse plunged violently, and a little 
chalk flint came bounding at her skirts. She started aside 
and looked all about her. It seemed as if some one had 
thrown at them. There was no one in sight. My lord 
did not look for any one. He had not seen the stone. 
He was muttering imprecations on horseflies as the horse 
and he danced together. And she said nothing, from 
which you may infer what you will. 

When he came to her again : 

‘‘ Nay, Mary, it is I who am afraid,” he whispered, 
“ afraid before the beauty of your soul, for I can never 
give it worthy service. Yet more, my heart and my queen, 
yet more than any man I am born to know you and serve. 
You call to me for all that I am, and I — ” 

He was drawing her to him, but she cried out, “ Not 
now, not now,” so passionately that he let her go. She 
did not shrink from him, but still meeting his eyes, “ I do 
not know,” she said. 

A long time he stood looking at her in silence, then 
fell on one knee and kissed her hand. 

“ It’s a thousand years till to-morrow,” he said. 

“ To-morrow,” she said in a strange, thoughtful tone. 
He kissed her hand again, and sprang on his horse, and 
with an excellent bow dashed romantically away. 

Mary Rymingtowne went down the hill very slowly. It 
is to be supposed that she saw little but thoughts and dreams 
as she went. For after a little way she found herself on 
a sudden face to face, breast to breast, with a man. She 
caught her breath. He might have risen out of the ground 
for all she knew of his coming. She drew back a little 


GOLD VELVET 


i6i 


haughtily and erect, and stared disdain at him. He did 
not move out of her way. 

He was a hulking fellow, heavily built, long-limbed, 
loose-limbed. His threadbare faded doublet seemed too 
small for him. He had a great hole in one stocking. 
There was much rust on the dented scabbard of the short 
sword at his side. His big, lean face, all brow and chin 
and jaw, was hungrily fierce. He looked altogether one of 
the discarded serving-men or one of the broken-down gen- 
try, turned swashbucklers, thieves, assassins, of whom 
England knew many in those years. You recognise Dic- 
con, the shepherd, who went seafaring and called himself 
Richard Rymingtowne. 

“ You’ll ha’ forgot who I am,” he drawled, and she saw 
the deep-set grey eyes gleam. ‘‘ I ha’ come to make ye 
remember ! ” 

Ah ! ” There was something more than the surprise 
of sudden memory in the cry. Then she laughed a little. 

I know you, Diccon. But you are so burnt ! And I am 
sure you are much bigger. Oh, but of course, I know 
you ! ” She held out her hand, smiling. 

He clutched at it and gripped it. 

Maybe I am bigger,” he drawled. ‘‘ ’Tis for you to 
find out what I be. You ha’ forgot, mistress.” 

Her hand, her arm, quivered in his grip, and she gave 
a cry of pain. But she did not speak, she did not try to 
free herself, and as she looked at him, strangely intent, 
her lips parted, and she blushed dark. “ You said you 
would come back,” she breathed, as if she spoke to herself. 

“ I went to sea to make my fortune. I ha’ not made 
it. But I come back.” 

‘‘ Oh, I am sorry!” 

‘‘Sorry that I be back?” 

“No, no. Sorry you — you have not been fortunate.” 

“ I come back wi’ naitght,” he said heavily. “ There’s 
a brave fellow for ye now! What’ll you say to him. 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


162 

mistress? To be sure you should talk haughtily to such/* 

''I? Oh, do you think I care if you are not rich?** 
Her face was alive and eager with tenderness. She was 
suddenly at ease now that he confessed failure, and seemed 
to ask comfort. I — we should not like you any better 
if you had made all the fortune in the world. It*s you 
yourself which matters to us. How could you think we 
have forgotten?** As she offered comfort she grew more 
and more kind. “ Ah, but it’s you yourself that we — 
we — welcome. And I am glad indeed you have come. I 
don’t care about fortune or not. How could you think 
that ? ** Her eyes were shining. 

He gave a short, hard laugh. 

“ Eh, but you’ll have to care, mistress,** he drawled, and 
again she was quivering at his grip. She did not cry out, 
but she grew pale now; she began to draw away. ‘‘Well, 
I ha’ come back. And here I have to throw a stone at your 
fine gentleman ! ’* 

“You! It was you!” She tried to wrench her hand 
out of his, but only to make herself jerk awkwardly. She 
blushed. Then with a parade of contempt: “ I am sorry 
that I did not see you, sir.” 

“ Nay, you was too busy. But I was there or thereabout. 
I was watching you,” he drawled with some humour in 
his voice, but none in his eyes. 

She drew herself up. Her blush was no more than a 
touch of anger in either cheek. 

“ Be pleased to let me go, sir,” she said. “ You do your- 
self wrong to behave so basely.” 

“Not I, God bless you!” said he. He did not let go 
her hand, but looked down at it grimly. “ Ay, he kissed 
it, didn’t he? A pretty gentleman, surely. And I ha’ 
never done that. But you’m not for him, my lass.” Sud- 
denly he flung her hand away and took her by the shoul- 
ders, shaking her a little. “ So you’ll let him have no more 
of you. ’Tis not good for you to have him handling 


GOLD VELVET 


163 


you. You’m for something bigger than the fine my lord 
knows about.” It is likely that she felt frail in his grasp. 
She put her hands on his arms and tried feebly to thrust 
him away. But anger had fled from her face and she was 
pale again. ‘‘ You ha’ forgot. You’m for me.” 

He let her go, pushing her a little back. After a mo- 
ment she broke out into wild laughter. 

“ Oh, I ought to be angry ! Ah, but, Diccon, I am 
sorry ! You — you — ” 

‘‘ Ay, you’m angry, and you’m sorry, and you’m laugh- 
ing. For I be all mighty foolish surely. For I was born 
a poor shepherd, and no more than a poor sailorman I be. 
Well, you would not ha’ seen me now but that I heard to 
Devizes my lord was after you. I was but coming to have 
a sly look at ye and go away again. Now I’ll ha’ done 
with him before I leave you. For poor sailorman and all 
that I be you’m for me.” He waited a moment, frowning 
at her, then turned on his heel and was gone. 

Mary Rymingtowne, following very slowly, had some 
excuse for agitation, and would not have confessed to it. 
For some time she had inclined to believe herself in love 
with my Lord Branscombe. He sought her so often that 
it had become natural to think of him as part of her life. 
He was always so decorative, so urgent, that it was im- 
possible to think of him as anything but a lover. She ad- 
mitted to herself with tremors that his wooing affected 
her. He was so fine a fellow. He was so exciting. 

It made him more exciting that her father should not 
like him. For the worst thing about him was his obvious 
desirability — wealth and birth and title. All that robbed 
him of charm, urged her to avoid him. But if he were for- 
bidden, there was at once romance in him. If there was 
something considerable against him, he was fascinating. 

She would have gone home with nothing but the most 
delicious thrills, if there had not been the intrusion of the 
preposterous Diccon. Not that she had ever forgotten 


164 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


him. He was too strange a creature. The dull, loutish lad 
who had suddenly discovered himself alert and infinitely 
cunning, and saved her father from a murderous trap; the 
boor who had plagued her childhood by following her and 
spying on her, and who, in the moment when he was 
recognised a rare fellow, had left her in a hurry, swearing 
to come back; the wonders of Diccon the shepherd had 
never been long out of her mind. The heavy, lumbering 
form, the heavy, lumbering speech, the dull, bulky face, 
the gleam of the deep-set eyes — all the outside of the 
man had somehow imposed itself upon her as significant, 
intimately important. Which was too absurd, for the crea- 
ture was only a shepherd lad, ignorant, uncouth, a son of 
the earth, and she was Mary Rymingtowne of Assynton. 
He had haunted her, he was part of her life, and, in some 
strange fashion, corporeally — always corporeally. The 
form and substance of him were always at hand. But in 
thought or dream or phantasm he had never dared to boast 
as he boasted that day. To throw stones at my Lord 
Branscombe’s adoration! To profess himself penniless, a 
failure, a common seaman, as the preface to a vaunt that 
she belonged to him. The greatest man in the world had 
no right to talk so, and he — oh, he was impudence run 
mad! And yet, and yet she owned, despising herself for 
having to own it, that he made her afraid. Certainly he 
was preposterous, he was mad; but the titillating thrills 
that should have come from my lord’s ardour were quenched 
in a vague, harassing dread. 


CHAPTER XVI 

MY lord’s plot 

It will not much surprise you to hear that before my 
Lord Branscombe arrived at the pleasant trysting place on 
the morrow he met Dick. He was riding from his house 
at Whitchurch by the old track across the downs. His 
horse was suddenly aware of a white thing that fluttered 
and flapped and rustled. His horse resented it with proper 
spirit, shied violently, and but that my Lord Branscombe 
had skill and resource in the saddle, would have taken 
them both a somersault down the steep grassy slope. On 
the verge of the track my lord held him, and turned to see 
the large clumsy shape of Dick rising at leisure, while a 
scarf was being tucked into his bosom. 

‘‘ I see you was not thinking of seeing me,” Dick 
drawled. 

My lord, invoking the devil, asked who he was, and why 
(the devil again being called in aid) he was waving his 
shirt. 

‘‘ My shirt? ” Dick drawled gravely. “ You ha’ not seen 
my shirt. You be thankful. ’Twas an Egyptian scarf that 
frightened you.” His brow came down. “ As for who 
I be, ’tis no such matter, seeing you be my Lord Brans- 
combe.” 

“What! You’ve an errand to me?” My lord’s tone 
changed to eagerness, and he plied spur to urge his horse 
towards Dick, who was plainly distasteful to the animal. 

Dick considered my lord solemnly. It was obvious that 
he expected a messenger; he supposed Dick to be the mes- 

165 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


1 66 

senger, and was excited. It would, therefore, be worth 
while for one who, in a general way, desired the over- 
throw of my lord, to find out what sort of message he 
wanted, what was the business that excited him. And 
Dick was always admirable — it is still characteristic of 
his family — in making the most of every chance that 
offered. Better at that than at seeing his way far ahead. 
So he considered my lord solemnly, and solemnly nodded. 

“ Ay, I’ve an errand to ’e,” said he. 

“ Whence do you come, my lad ? ’’ 

Again Dick considered him, and conceiving that it would 
be best to be mysterious, replied with his new accomplish- 
ments, a French gesture and the French language. 

Quoi! Monsieur ne comprend past” 

At once he saw that he had done very well. My lord was 
still more excited, and cried out : 

^‘You come from France?” Since he seemed to like 
the idea so much, Dick nodded sagely. From Paris?” 

Dick laughed. He began to guess his way. You re- 
member what year this was. Queen Elizabeth had not been 
long upon the throne, was not very firm iii her seat, and 
there were many enemies of her and her religion, of her 
father and particularly of her mother, plotting to pluck 
her down. Mary of Scots, who was Queen of France, 
called herself Queen of England, and it was common talk 
in Paris — Mr. Melcombe had nearly been in a duel about 
the business — that many Englishmen were ready to fight 
to make her so. 

“ So you be one of them, my lord,” quoth Dick to him- 
self, and aloud he said, “ Ay, monsieur, from Paris.” 
When he put himself in the way he had meant no more 
than to find out what manner of man my lord was; per- 
haps, if it seemed useful, to pick a quarrel. But now, if 
he were daintily handled, my lord was going to confess 
himself a traitor, my lord was going to deliver himself to 
destruction. 


MY LORD’S PLOT 167 

‘‘And what do they say in Paris?” Branscombe cried 
eagerly. 

Dick watched my lord from half shut eyes. What Paris 
was saying in the way of scandal and brag against the 
Queen of England he knew well enough. But he did not 
see how to snare Branscombe in that. He wanted more 
information about the man. He wanted to know how far 
my lord had gone and who were his friends. So he felt 
his way slowly. “ Why, in Paris they do say as some of 
you says too much. Some o’ you in England ha’ been talk- 
ing more than ye ought. Whereby Queen Bess and her 
fellows do know more than they need.” 

That had the designed effect of making my lord angry. 
“ God’s body, is this your errand to me, sirrah ? ” he cried 
with rising colour. “ D’ye tell me that I have been 
blabbing ? Who bade you ? ” He paused for a reply and 
got none. “ Who sent you, I say ? ” 

“ Why who would you think now ? ” Dick laughed. 

My lord execrated his impudence. 

“ Now, God ha’ mercy, ’tis not mine neither. They’m 
mighty more impudent to you in the Hotel de Guise.” He 
named at a venture the headquarters of the cause of Mary 
of Scots. 

“It is D’Elboeuf, then!” my lord cried. 

Dick chuckled: “You should ha’ seen his veins swell 
when he talked of you.” 

My lord swore. 

“ Go back and see his veins swell when you tell him I 
say he is a fat fool.” 

“Nay, nay, you’m too hot.” Dick talked to him like 
a father. “ ’Tis not thought that you ha’ done worse 
than young man’s folly. But we do know things is known 
about your part. And there’s a cunning old fellow hereby 
— Ribbletowne, is it? Rymingtowne, maybe; he’s very 
stubborn for Queen Bess. And you do go consorting after 
a pretty lass which is his daughter. So M. D’Elboeuf 


i68 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

would have you not do such. For no doubt she’s a wily 
piece.” 

My lord, with a shout, consigned M. D’Elbceuf to hell. 
In a vehement flood of words said much else of him and 
his messenger. 

Now that’s foolish,” Dick remonstrated. And it’s 
no answer neither.” 

My lord assured him through many oaths that no other 
answer there would be. 

Dick shrugged a heavy shoulder. 

‘‘ Amen, and so be it, then. A wilful lad mun have 
his way. But ye’ll ^give it me in a letter, so please you. 
I’ld not charge my mouth with it.” 

‘‘ I’ll give you a letter,” my lord cried with an oath. 
“ Get you to Barbury.” And off he galloped to his tryst- 
ing-place. 

Dick sat down to chuckle. It amused him to imagine 
Mary Rymingtowne’s emotions if she were ever to hear of 
herself as a crafty traitress, a Delilah. My lord did not 
much amuse him. He was too apt to despise people whom 
he could deceive. But with himself he was happily con- 
tent. 

Mary Rymingtowne was late at the trysting-place for 
several reasons. The day before my lord had kept her 
waiting; maidenhood as well as pride demanded that he 
should have to wait for her. He was to require an an- 
swer to the question whether she loved him, and she did 
not know at all what to say. It is possible that as she 
came, very late and still very slowly, she felt .some faint 
hope that he might have gone away. 

My lord, thanks to the interruption of Dick, had not 
been waiting long, but he displayed a great impatience. He 
sprang from his horse almost into her arms. He cap- 
tured her with one arm, though she drew back and would 
have freed herself. 

“ My lady, my queen ! ” he cried. ** I am mad with 


MY LORD’S PLOT 169 

yearning for you. I have been upon the rack. Nay, look 
at me. Give me my answer from your eyes.” 

Her face was red. She held herself away from him. 

‘‘ I do not know,” she said, and as she spoke turned to 
look at him. 

She meant her eyes to show no yielding. He might 
have seen doubt there, and a brave honesty, and the spirit 
of maidenhood. But my lord was one of the dangerous 
folk who see what they choose to see. To her horror he 
caught her to him and cried out: 

“ Ah, the wonder of you ! Mine for my crown and my 
delight ! Mine ! ” Then almost as suddenly he let her go, 
kissed her hand fiercely, and was in the saddle again, and 
with a shout of ‘‘ Mine ! ” dashed away. 

Even in her bewildered alarm she saw that he was rid- 
ing towards Assynton, towards her home, not his, and was 
the more troubled. 

In his upper room in the manor house at Assynton Mr. 
Rymingtowne sat studious over the astronomic tables of 
Reinhold. He was told that my Lord Branscombe had 
come and desired to speak with him. Mr. Rymingtowne 
caressed his little white beard for a while before he an- 
swered that my Lord Branscombe should be brought. The 
servant was just going out when he spoke again: 

‘‘ Tell Mistress Mary that I cannot come to her for a 
little.” The servant begged pardon, but Mistress Mary 
had gone walking and was still out. “Very well,” said 
Mr. Rymingtowne, and seemed more than satisfied. 

My Lord Branscombe appeared with impressive grace. 

“ I rejoice,” he explained, “ that I have some claim to 
do myself this honour — to come upon Mr. Rymingtowne 
when he is alone with divine philosophy.” 

“ It must be pleasant, I think, to rejoice so easily,” 
Mr. Rymingtowne reflected. “ But for my part I am 
dazzled.” 

“ Sir, I know no man, and I have known many of the 


170 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


greatest in ChristenHom, for whose calm deep of wisdom 
I have such esteem as yours/’ 

‘‘ It is probably because you have never heard me say 
twenty words together,” Mr. Rymingtowne suggested. 

‘^You are too modest, sir,” my lord cried, and Mr. 
Rymingtowne hid a smile with his hand. “ Your mere 
presence proves you a man who dwells with the mystery 
of the empyrean. I am proud that it is you to whom I 
come.” 

“ You are much more mysterious than the empyrean, 
my lord,” said Mr. Rymingfowne. 

“ I am glad that you do not guess my errand. I shall 
be plain enough ere all is told. Mr. Rymingtowne, I need 
not disguise from you that the wanton malice of folly has 
sought to make me think ill of you.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne opened his eyes wide. 

‘‘If folly says that I would have you think of me at all, 
’tis the silliest folly ever I met.” 

“ Sir, it is said that you intend ill to my ambitions, my 
schemes, my pledged faith. But — ” 

“ But I never knew that you had any,” Mr. Ryming- 
towne put in blandly. 

“ But I curse such lies for the knavery of fools. And 
you will know how little I esteem them, what honour I 
have for you ” (here Mr. Rymingtowne began to look at an 
astrolabe earnestly to restrain his emotions), “when I tell 
you that I come seeking your daughter’s hand.” He struck 
a fine attitude. He was a well-made fellow, trained by the 
best masters in Italy, and magnificently caparisoned. But 
perhaps there was something too much condescension in 
his aspect. 

For when Mr. Rymingtowne began to look at him the 
whimsical amusement was soon gone from that lean, lined 
face. Mr. Rymingtowne rose and drew his long gown 
about him, and spoke for the first time gravely : 

“ My lord, I hope that I value aright the honour which 


MY LORD’S PLOT 


171 

you intend to my family. But my daughter is not some- 
thing that I can give. And — ” 

My lord laughed. 

“ Say no more, sir — say no more. I will stand surety 
for your daughter’s good-will. Come, let us — ” He ap- 
proached, holding out his hand. 

Mr. Rymingtow’ne went on quietly as if he had said noth- 
ing that mattered; 

‘‘ And if it were mine to give, I tell you frankly, my lord, 
it is not to you that she would be given. I could not ask 
of you the condescension to take her.” 

“ You do her wrong, by Heaven ! ” my lord cried passion- 
ately, and then as if light suddenly broke upon him, Why, 
sir — why do you mock me ? ” 

‘‘ How could I ? ” said Mr. Rymingtowne sadly. 

“ What is your answer, then ? ” ^ 

With my good-will she is not for you, my lord. I 
doubt not I can rely on you to discover that you are not 
for her.” 

“ Why, this is insolence ! ” my lord cried. “ It is true, 
then, what he said ! You are my enemy ! ” 

“ I protest, in this an excellent good friend to you. 
As to myself,” said Mr. Rymingtowne placidly. 

Oh, you have your answer, have you ? Be assured I 
shall have mine ! ” Out my lord flung. 

If you consider that he was on horseback, that he was 
in an ecstasy of vanity, and perhaps of passion, compelling 
him to a high speed, while Mary Rymingtowne was afoot 
with bewilderment and hesitation and fear, you will under- 
stand why he had come and gone before she was back at 
Assynton Manor. Moreover, as he went off by the straight 
road to Barbury instead of that bridle track past the try st- 
ing-place and over the downs, she did not see him again 
that day. 

Now Dick, who had, you remember, appointed to meet 
Branscombe at Barbury, and there obtain his letter to M. 


172 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


D’Elboeuf, determined that my lord would be none the 
worse for being kept waiting. Dick wanted to know what 
had happened at the trysting-place — whether Mary Rym- 
ingtowne had been told she was a Delilah, or something 
else. 

So, as Mary came up the avenue of beeches, loitering 
here and there to pick a primrose, or not to pick one, be- 
cause she was afraid of what she might find at home, she 
heard a dragging step behind her, and turned to see Dick 
grin. 

‘‘ And how does my lord find himself to-day ? ’’ he asked 
politely. 

Mary’s cheeks burnt. She took a step forward. For a 
moment he thought she was going to strike him. Her 
eyes flashed. 

‘‘You make yourself contemptible when you talk like 
that,” she cried. 

He grinned more broadly. 

“ And if I like to, ’tis what I like, and there’s an end.” 

“You do not like to. You are just a boy being rude 
and bragging,” she panted. 

His brow lifted. It was plain that her authority had 
surprised him. She saw it, and was quick to take advan- 
tage. 

“ There, let us have no more of that, Diccon ! Are you 
coming to the manor?” 

“ Well, now, Fd not ha’ said you was in such a hurry 
to get there,” he drawled. “ But if you can tell me for 
sure ril not find my lord there, Fm willing.” 

She grew pale. 

“ You are impudent,” she stammered. 

“ Eh, you’m expecting him there likely.” His sunken 
eyes grew keen. 

She swept away from him, and on he lumbered after. 
He did not feel at all sure, it appears, what my lord had 
said to her. 


MY LORD’S PLOT 


173 

They found Mr. Rymingtowne walking on the terrace. 
He came towards them quickly. 

“ Why ’’ — he recognised Dick with surprise — ‘‘ why, 
Mary, I find you in good company. Diccon, lad, I am 
something more than glad to see you home again.” 

Dick took his hand. 

‘‘ And Fm noways glad to see you,” he drawled. ‘‘ I 
went away for to make my fortune, and here I come back 
wi’ naught.” 

‘‘ Is that worth being sorry for ? ” said Mr. Ryming- 
towne. 

“ Who said I was sorry? ” quoth Dick fiercely. Time 
enough to be sorry when Fm beat. I do want a word with 
you.” He paused. “If mistress here can spare you. 
And so be you’re not busy with my lord.” In diverse ways 
the faces of father and daughter expressed surprise. “ My 
Lord Branscombe,” Dick explained. “ I heard tell as he 
was here.” 

With different emphasis the faces of father and daugh- 
ter seemed to say that he was an uncanny creature. 

“ Prithee, Diccon, what do you know of my Lord 
Branscombe?” Mr. Rymingtowne smiled. 

“ Naught more than’s common talk. ’Tis an Italianate 
fellow, surely.” He quoted the Italian proverb that an 
Englishman Italianate is a devil incarnate, and the two stared 
to hear him speak Italian. “ ’Tis known he hath a double 
life.” A roving eye sought Mary. “ Fd not mean he 
keeps a wife stowed away, but — but there, you do know 
him surely.” 

“ We know that my Lord Branscombe is far above slan- 
der,” Mary cried. 

“ He’ll ha’ told you so himself, to be sure,” Dick 
drawled. “ But, by your leave, may I have a word with 
you?” He turned to Mr. Rymingtowne, who, with great 
respect — partly, perhaps, sincere — ushered him in. 

Then Mr. Rymingtowne was again surprised, for Dick 


174 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


pulled out a leather bag, said that it held five hundred 
pounds, and desired Mr. Rymingtowne to buy for him 
therewith any land for sale within ten miles of Assynton. 
For he was soon off to sea again and could not stay. 

‘‘ But you said that you came back with naught, my lad ? ” 
Mr. Rymingtowne protested feebly. 

“ What be that ? ” Dick snapped his big fingers. I do 
want a fortune.” 

“ Here’s the worth of a good farm.” Dick leaned to- 
wards him. 

D’ye think I’ll be content wi’ a farm? ” he said fiercely. 
“ I want, d’ye see — I want ! Oh, but you mean well, and 
ye’ll do your best. Give ye good day.” 

He was gone before Mr. Rymingtowne had an answer. 

Mr. Rymingtowne still felt breathless as he sought his 
daughter in her withdrawing-room. But, after all, his 
daughter was to him by far more important than the mys- 
tery of any man alive. Mary Rymingtowne betrayed 
anxiety. Her father sat down at his leisure. 

“ My Lord Branscombe has been with me, Mary.” He 
waited for an answer, and none came. She would not look 
at him. “ He says that he wishes to make you my lady.” 
Still there was no look nor answer. “ He says that you — 
are not unwilling. That is not true?” 

She looked up, blushing, but quite calm. 

‘‘ I do not know.” 

“My dear!” There was something of sadness, some- 
thing of surprise in his voice. “ I told him that it would 
never be with my good-will.” 

“I — was afraid,” she murmured. 

“ I do not believe he will ever win your will.” 

“I — I do not know,” she murmured, and then, sud- 
denly clasping her father’s hand, “ Oh, forgive me, forgive 
me ! ” He bowed over the hand and kissed it. They had 
been sitting some while silent when suddenly a vision of 


MY LORD’S PLOT 


175 

Dick arose before Mr. Rymingtowne’s melancholy 
thoughts. 

He made an exclamation. 

“ I protest our friend Diccon is a strange creature. 
Why did he talk of Branscombe?” Mary Rymingtowne 
did not feel able to tell. She sat with her head bent, her 
eyes hidden. ‘‘ It is not often one finds a man so much of 
a man as to be puzzling. But he — he bewilders.” 

‘‘ He is bewildering,” said Mary Rymingtowne ; and then, 
to her father’s complete amazement, she began to cry. 

Dick had a five-mile walk before him to Barbury, and 
took it leisurely, and arrived with the twilight. He an- 
nounced himself as ‘‘the man that’s come for the letter,” 
was at once admitted, and found my lord in a bad temper. 

“You should have been here hours ago, fellow.” 

“ Eh, I’m slow and you be quick, and that’s the differ- 
ence ’twixt you and me.” My lord made an angry noise 
resenting any comparison, though it only discovered a dif- 
ference. “ But time enough for me to take your letter. 
Where is it ? ” 

My lord could not give it him without making a large 
and florid speech about what was in it. With that we are 
happily not concerned. The letter was a great effort in the 
euphuistic style, containing more tropes and far-sought ad- 
jective than you would easily believe. Its substance was 
that if M. D’Elboeuf said my lord Branscombe was be- 
traying secrets he was a liar and a fool ; that my lord could 
more easily do without M. D’Elboeuf than M. D’Elboeuf 
without him. That without M. D’Elboeuf moving one fat 
finger my lord would engage to start such a surge of revolt 
in England as should carry his most noble and most glori- 
ous liege lady, Mary Stuart, Queen of France, of Scotland, 
of England, and of hearts, safe to the English throne. 

When Dick came back to the room in the ale-house at 
Assynton, where he lodged, he slipped a hot knife under the 


176 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


seal and read the letter, that there should be no mistake 
how it sounded. He was well satisfied. My lord con- 
victed himself of treason so clearly that the silliest justice 
of the peace would have no doubt about arresting him. 
Dick was rarely in a hurry. He put the letter back in his 
pocket. But the old boatswain who was his companion at 
the ale-house found him more than commonly bibulous that 
night. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE CLEAN DAGGER 

On the next day he was as soberly sluggish as ever. 
The boatswain complained with some bitterness of his 
pestilent eternal habit of loafing and gaping about the 
downs. Dick was, of course, anxious to see what hap- 
pened, if anything were to happen, at the try sting-place. 
He lay on his face for some time in vain. Mary Ryming- 
towne did not come at the familiar hour, nor my lord 
either. But after a while Dick heard horses. My lord 
appeared, reined up, and waited as much as half an hour. 
Then he shouted out something, and other men came spur- 
ring Up, one with a led horse that bore a woman’s saddle. 
They passed on and out of sight. Dick went down the 
hill at a run. 

It was always Mary Rymingtowne’s habit to walk by 
the brook. There each in turn, each in his own way, Dick 
and my lord Branscombe had learnt to covet her. Down 
by the brook Branscombe led his horsemen, and halted 
them behind a copse and went on still. He was rewarded. 

Mary Rymingtowne stood alone, a slim, grey creature, 
with a bunch of kingcups golden in her hand; she was 
looking down at a swirling pool of grey water where the 
trout were leaping. 

“Well met, well met! ” my lord cried, and bent to the 
saddle, and snatched her hands, flowers and all. 

She looked up at him with a strange glow in her eyes. 

“ I did not bid you come,” she said. 

“ Not with your words, but with your soul ! ” he cried. 
“ Come, my heart's mistress, come the irremediable way ! I 

177 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


178 

have endured my probation for an eternity in each day. I 
can no more. Grant me my paradise. Come, crown me! 
Come, sound the clarion to my spirit in the emprise that 
I must venture! Nay, Til be denied no more. Maiden 
modesty hath had its hour. I am hungry and thirsty for 
you ! He snatched her in his arms and swung her up 
on the saddle before him. ‘‘You are mine! You are 
mine!” he cried, and had his horse round and was off. 

“ It is not — it is not — I will not — ” She was breath- 
less and struggling, but not desperate. 

“ My will is thy will, and thine mine ! ” He drove in his 
spurs. 

She panted out, “ No, no, no ! ” but very soon she rested 
quiet against him. There was a strange smile in her eyes. 

His horsemen thundered after him, and so they sped on 
over the windy down to his house at Barbury. 

To Mr. Rymingtowne’s woodman, as he overlooked the 
fencing of a new plantation, there appeared running a fat 
and aged fellow, who sobbed out, “ Go ^e up to squire. 
Tell ’e as my Lord Branscombe hath stole his daughter, and 
is away to Barbury wi’ her,” and therewith collapsed upon 
the ground and seemed like to burst. This was the boat- 
swain. 

I have always supposed that Dick had some particular 
affection for Mr. Rymingtowne. Else I do not think that 
he would have troubled to send him news of the affair. 
For that was plainly mere courtesy. Dick proposed to 
deal with my lord himself. A father’s assistance was, 
therefore, merely superfluous. Dick had run back to his 
ale-house and taken the one cob that was all its horseflesh, 
and while the boatswain carried his message to the manor 
he was riding to Barbury. 

My Lord Branscombe’s house at Barbury, hardly as old 
as himself, was in the Italian style, formal without and mag- 
nificent within. Mary Rymingtowne, set down breathless 
and dishevelled in its hall, saw her disorder reflected in a 


THE CLEAN DAGGER 


179 


hundred panels that shone like mirrors. Vases of gold 
and silver glittered everywhere, and gleaming white statues 
of a luscious style. It was yet more disconcerting that a 
whole regiment of servants were bowing at her, servants 
all silk and velvet, as fine as the finest gentleman she had 
ever seen. 

But my lord hurried her on. Whether or not she had 
been willing to be captured, she was very glad now of the 
arm that surrounded her and bore her away from those eyes 
and that alarming splendour. For my part I believe she 
had enjoyed the capture. I am sure that she never liked 
my lord so well as on this day of his violence. She was 
never, of course, afraid of him. She was vastly surprised 
to find that he could venture anything so boldly masterful. 
But since he could, she found him delicious. His airs and 
graces, his comeliness, his fantastics, his flattering rhetoric, 
had always been pleasant. She had always with him, even 
in the highest of his flights, a comfortable confidence that 
she was the stronger. Too much the stronger, indeed — 
that was the fault of him. 

But if his passion for her could make him manly enough 
to play the master, mad enough to take her by force, surely 
he was the perfect lover. A man not of stature, not of 
force to make the woman’s soul quail, yet with a strength 
of passion that made him challenge the world for her sake 
— surely he must be all that w'oman could desire. At least, 
he could keep her safe from the strange, savage, frightening 
creature, Diccon the shepherd. But even in this glorious 
excitement of body and mind the memory of Dick started 
up to haunt her. 

My lord brought her to a room with walls of yellow 
wood that shone like gold, and a carpet of apple-green, 
into which her feet sank deep. There was furniture of 
austere classic shape and little statues in bronze and silver. 
He pressed her down into a chair and bowed and kissed her 
foot. 


i8o 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Welcome and a thousand times welcome to your 
shrine ! ’’ 

She looked over her shoulder, and then turned with flam- 
ing face, calling herself silently a fool and a coward. Why 
should she expect to see Dick’s heavy shape slouch in? 

‘‘ ’Tis a temple all unworthy of you, my divinity, even 
as this poor spirit of mine is by far too mean a house for 
the glory of thine. Yet of both shall you make what you 
will till they are fashioned anew to the need of thine own 
perfection. Come, my soul’s desire, come; the priest waits 
to speak the words that proclaim thee mine.” 

‘‘Now?” she cried, and began to tremble, and laughed 
then. 

There was a stumble of hurried steps and confused voices. 
The door flung open as if the latch was burst. Dick came 
thudding in. He pulled up short and chuckled, and stood 
breathing hard, looking down with grim scorn at the red- 
faced, dishevelled Mary and my lord’s splendour kneeling 
at her feet. 

“ You ha’ done it finely, you have, to be sure,” he 
drawled. 

Branscombe sprang up and rushed at him, eloquent in 
two languages, and was thrust off to reel back upon Mary. 

“ You’ll have all England calling you fool, you will,” 
Dick grinned. 

“ Detest your impudence ! ” cried Branscombe. “ What 
folly brings you here again ? ” 

“ Yourn,” quoth Dick. “ And do you be mighty glad I 
be here before the Sheriff! ” 

“ The Sheriff?” 

“ The plot’s blown upon. The game’s up. They’re 
mustering yeomen to Newbury and Reading. The Sheriff’s 
a-riding for you with his posse. ’Twill make a pretty 
tale against you, you caught fooling here with a lass.” 

My lord swore a great oath. 


THE CLEAN DAGGER 


i8i 


I will hold the house against him. I will make good 
upon him though he bring all the county.” 

“ Aw, you do talk like as if you was in liquor. To be 
sure ’tis much the same to have a lass wi’ you. Hold this 
house, which is but a pleasance, an eggshell to crack ’twixt 
two fingers! Aw dear! And wi’ these popinjays o’ serv- 
ants against the Sheriff’s yeomen ! Aw dear, aw dear ! ” 

“ Do you think I will be taken like a sheep, sirrah? ” my 
lord cried, trembling with rage. 

For sure you will if here you do stay.” 

My lord swore at him. 

Dick lounged across the room and clapped him on the 
shoulder. 

“ Out on it, man; pluck up heart and do some’at! Never 
be made a mock to all the world. A silly show ! Bah ! 
Take horse and ride — ride and gather your men.” 

By Heaven that’s well said, fellow ! ” my lord cried. 

I’ll away to Sir Stephen this hour.” 

Ay, to Sir Stephen, surely,” Dick agreed, who had 
never heard of him before. 

My lord strode in a dramatic attitude of thought; then, 
muttering rhythmically, I knew their fear would make 
them strike me first ! ” he rushed out. 

Dick turned from watching the curtain fall behind him, 
and looked down at Mary Rymingtowne, much as you may 
conceive a tiger regarding its forward whelp, large, cold, 
and grim. To all the swift talk she had not put a word. 
Through it all she sat silent and never stirred, looking with 
wide eyes of alarm at Dick. 

My lord was hardly gone before he put his head in 
again. 

“ You will be safe,” he panted. “ You are in no dan- 
ger. Heart of my heart — ” 

'' What’s yon that I hear ? ” Dick growled^ who indeed 
heard nothing. My lord fled out, 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


182 

They were left still looking at each other. Dick and his 
tigerish stare against the bewildered fear in her eyes, like 
a child when it dreads unreasoning strength. Then he 
jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 

“ You's a pretty thing to go riding with, my lass. You 
might ha' chose one which was braver nor a Jack rabbit. 
What's he running from now, if 'e please? Naught but a 
turnip and a sheet as I showed him, like boys playing ghost- 
ies." 

“ What do you mean ? " she cried. 

Dick laughed. 

“ To be sure there's no Sheriff nor no yeomen, and I 
could a'most believe there's no plot neither. Only he told 
me so. See here, my lass. When I found that Jack o’ 
Green was running after you, I put myself in his way to 
ask him what he was to do such. Before I knew it, he 
was babbling out that he was in a plot to pull down the 
Queen and put Mary o' Scots and the filthy French over 
us. So I let the fool think I was in it, too, and he gave me 
a letter to one of his fine friends in Paris that’s enough 
to hang him for the traitor he is. I kept it safe, you be 
sure, for them as will know how to use it. But when he 
played these chap-book antics with you, I thought it would 
be good for you if I showed you first what a skimble- 
skamble fool he is. Look at him now, scuttering like a 
rat for naught but a fellow that comes wi’ a tale and 
mocks at him. For there's none after him, my lass, but 
your father, that’ll be here soon to take you home and box 
your ears.” 

Her face was flaming. 

‘‘ Is it all true? ” she gasped. 

Bide a bit and you'll see.” 

‘‘ About the letter ? ” He plucked it out and gave it her. 
She took it in trembling fingers, saw the seal, and read 
in my lord's hand the superscription to M. D’Elboeuf, She 
gave a little cry. “ Is it — is it indeed ? ” 


THE CLEAN DAGGER 183 

‘‘ ’T would hang a better man nor your popinjay, my 
lass,’’ Dick drawled. 

She bent down and hid her face in her hands, and was 
shuddering with sobs. A clashing sound startled her. 
She looked up pale, and saw through her tears Dick holding 
a tinder-box and blowing the sparks to flame. He took the 
letter and lit it, and grinned at her as it floated in glowing 
flakes to the ground. Her lips parted; she tried to say 
something, and was very sweetly piteous. Dick did not 
come to her or speak, but his face grew sombre and stern. 

“ And now — now ? ” she murmured, and her voice was 
a cry for pardon and something kindlier. ‘‘ Ah, what’s 
that?” The din of hurrying horsemen broke upon them. 

“ ’Twill be father coming to box your ears,” quoth Dick 
cheerily. “To be sure, ’tis time. And now — now Til 
be going away again.” 

“ Away again ? ” she repeated like an echo, pale to her 
lips. 

“ Ay, and here’s to mind you while I be gone.” He 
plucked from his belt an Eastern dagger, and thrust it upon 
her against her bosom. “You — you wait and keep it 
clean.” 

The blood flooded her face again, and she shook. 

Dick stood over her; only turned away when Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne rushed in. 

“ Eh, you ha’ no call to puff,” he drawled. “ She’ll do 
well enough. I ha’ scared my lord off. Told him you’ll 
have his blood. But don’t ’e trouble. You’ld find none in 
him.” 

He thrust past the amazed man, and out and away. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


UP CHANNEL 

Alderman Fry was busy as an ant and pompous as a 
stag-beetle. So said the Mayor. But he had a name for 
wit to keep up and a grudge against the alderman, who 
would not buy from his ropewalk. The alderman was in- 
spired by a consciousness of heroism and a year’s balance 
on the wrong side. Not another man in all the corporation 
of Bristol had ever had to face the loss of a stout ship 
to the heathen pirates of Barbary. Not a merchant ven- 
turer in all England had ever been taken by the pirates and 
escaped without ransom by the might of his own hands. 
So the alderman said frequently, and accounted himself 
the most venturous of merchant venturers. He was in this 
comfortable mood, he was strenuously gathering business 
again into his grip, when Dick Rymingtowne returned to 
disturb him. Dick Rymingtowne and the old boatswain, 
Nick Antony. 

The boatswain, as I infer, was doubtful of their wel- 
come: pronouncing that the alderman had no more blood 
in him than a kippered herring, and opining therefore that 
he would not remember so well how they had with pains 
and peril redeemed him as how they had put him in jeop- 
ardy: not how they had miraculously preserved his car- 
cass but how they had cheated him out of a ship and lost 
her. For which good reasons he expected little of Aider- 
man Fry. Dick was more hopeful. 

“ Th’ old rogue hath a gleam o’ red in his eyes whiles,” 
quoth he. Maybe he can be a fool as well as his betters.” 

So on a spring morning of 1560 into Alderman Fry’s 
184 


UP CHANNEL 185 

counting-house Dick Rymingtowne slouched, with Antony 
rolling in his wake. 

“ God bless you,” he drawled. How’s all wi’ you ? 
Ha’ you aught a-doing as we can do? ” 

The aldennan laughed. 

‘‘ Would you kidnap me for another voyage, you ras- 
cal?” 

“ Oh, ay, it ’twas convenient.” 

Thou’rt a brazen rogue,” the alderman chuckled. 
‘‘ What’s in thy big head now ? ” 

Dick scratched it. 

“ Naught but to see if you had aught in yourn. Not 
expecting that neither. You’m but a merchant after 
all.” 

The alderman went on being amused. Such wit was 
doubtless adapted to him. But I have always supposed 
that he had that kindness for Dick which surly tempers are 
apt to form for him who treats them more surlily. And 
also he had intentions. 

There was at no time, I suppose, much amiable in Aider- 
man Fry. He was greedy and he was hard, but he had 
the virtues as well as the vices of the masculine. He be- 
lieved absurdly in backing his friends and yet more pas- 
sionately in risk and danger and the throwing of good 
money after bad. Thus virtues and vices wrought in him 
to one purpose. 

“ Art for the sea again ? ” quoth he. 

“ There’s too many of your kind for me to find a living 
on land.” 

‘‘ You’ll find a living as long as there’s a crust to steal, 
my lad,” the alderman assured him. Are you about a 
new venture ? ” Dick looked very cunning and tapped his 
nose. “ Well, would ye have a mind to one of mine? ” 

“ I’ll hear of it,” Dick drawled. 

“ The black heathen are the richer by a good ship of 
mine.” The alderman grew earnest, ‘‘And I’ve no will 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


1 86 

to forget it. Now we saw well enough that a cunning 
mariner with a crew that would fight could find occasion 
to harry them soundly. And more profit in the plunder 
of one of their rich holds than a dozen honest voyages. 
Why, if your Doricot had not been a mad knight-errant 
we had come home as rich as Gresham.’’ 

‘‘ We’ll have no ill of him that’s dead,” quoth Dick sulk- 
ily. ‘‘ And died better nor you will withal. Let be — 
let be! Well, so you’ve a mind to make good out of the 
heathen? I am the man for that.” 

“ So I say,” the alderman agreed heartily. ‘‘ And what 
will you put to the venture ? ” 

“Not a groat more than myself. Which is a fortune 
more than you’re worth.” 

The alderman was something sobered by that, but soon 
they came to concord. And so Dick Rymingtowne went 
sailing out of Bristol master of the ship Reckoning, which 
bore a crew half as large again as she needed, and a mus- 
ket for every man. This seems to prove that it was Dick 
Rymingtowne and not Don John, or the Dorias, who di- 
vined that the way for a sailing ship to meet the galleys in 
a calm was by the fire of small-arms. 

They sailed to shifty breezes, and they had but just 
weathered Lundy when a wind came out of the west, and 
they had to beat against it tediously, seeing much more 
of the Cornish cliffs than the boatswain liked. But he was, 
for a fat man, very apprehensive. That is doubtless why 
Dick Rymingtowne, who had himself no turn for appre- 
hension, clave to him. Dick was wholly cheerful, while 
the boatswain grumbled oaths continuously. When they 
saw the open sea to southward, he puffed out relief. 

“ Praise be we’m out o’ the narrows. Land’s a thing 
I do ne’er want to see unless I be on it,” and he cursed the 
wind again. 

“You be thankful for your mercies,” Dick grinned; 
“ and you’ll see a deal o’ land yet this voyage,” 


UP CHANNEL 187 

With that he put the helm over and the ship before the 
wind. 

The boatswain was for a while speechless. Then, 

‘‘ You’m making up Channel,” he exploded, which was 
indeed plain enough. The pillars of Land’s End were al- 
ready under the port quarter. 

Up Channel it is.” 

“ ’Tis a strange road to Barbary, to my thinking.” 

“ There’s pirates nearer than Barbary,” Dick grinned. 

He had not crossed France with his ears shut. He had 
not been in and out of Channel ports on both sides to learn 
nothing. 

‘‘What’s your will?” the boatswain gasped. “You’m 
never minded to go against the Fowey gallants or the 
Dartmouth men? Nay, now, nay; hawks’ll not pick out 
hawks’ eyes, as the saying goes. ’Tis not Christian, to be 
sure. And if we do meddle wi’ un, us’ll never dare show 
in the West Country. And they’m honest lads which never 
touch naught but foreigners.” 

“And thou’rt o’ the West Country thyself, Nick,” Dick 
grinned. “ Spare your wind, will ye ? I’ll leave Devon 
be and the Duchy withal. There’s pirates both sides o’ 
Channel. I’m for the Dunkirkers. Many a fat bottom 
running for Antwerp they sharks grab. Well now, if we 
do lie off and on till we see one which hath filled his maw, 
and lay aboard him then, we’ll have as much as a voyage is 
worth, and us not a week out of Bristol.” 

The boatswain stared at him for some time, and then 
said stolidly: 

“Ye could never do it twice. The whole nest o’ the 
rogues would be a-watching for you.” 

“ D’ye take me for a fool? Would I try the same thing 
twice the same way ? ” 

“ Nay,” the boatswain grumbled, “ ’tis not a fool I do 
think ’e surely,” and continued to look at him as though 
he were a queer invention, 


i88 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


They were somewhere off the Wight when the wind 
failed. It had been too hot for comfort ever since they 
made out of Bristol. Now in the calm they had sunshine 
blazing all day long from a sky that was never blue, and 
heavy, lifeless air. There was nothing to do but sweat 
and spit and grumble at the beer. All this they did ve- 
hemently. Then a grey-blue swell of fog rolled up Chan- 
nel and engulfed them. For days they saw neither land 
nor sun nor stars. The fog seemed to numb the spirit of 
them as well as their senses, and a crew of rascals as keen 
as ever left Avonmouth grew dull and listless and whined 
forebodings. They had some reason. A wind moved in 
the fog shiftily, and where they were no man knew. It 
was chance, perhaps; perhaps it was the boatswain’s queer 
inhuman instinct for shoal water — he spent days and 
nights in the bows — that saved them from the dunes and 
the Grey Nose. Once they had something like a panic 
when half the crew swore it was church bells that they 
heard chiming no more than a cable’s length away. But 
the boatswain pronounced them ship-bells, and Dick with 
fist and foot beat into the fearful the assurance that they 
were making peril out of a fishing fleet from Hastings or 
Rye. Neither fishing fleet nor church they ever saw, and 
by nightfall there was a tale afoot that the bells were 
ghostly, an omen of wreck. 

But in the night the fog began to thin. Some of those 
who kept the middle watch talked of ships’ lanterns, others 
of stars. At dawn they were still alone in a grey cloud, 
but they could see some little way. Soon after dawn they 
heard firing to southward. Before noon the fog melted in 
heavy rain, and away to starboard they saw white water 
and a low coast. A freshening westerly wind served them, 
and they stood away, subdued in spirit but grumbling at 
the captain who had taken them up Channel into these perils 
instead of southward. Dick was very genially grim. 

Then they saw a lugger — a French craft — making 


UP CHANNEL 


189 


mighty bad weather of it. The Reckoning came up on her 
fast. Her rigging was queer, and soon they made out that 
her hull had shot holes. 

“ There’s the girl we ha’ waited for,” Dick grinned. 

The boatswain dashed the rain out of his eyes. 

“ A hath been fighting, surely.” 

Dick bade pipe to quarters. 

“ Try her with one of your long guns, Jerry,” he said to 
the gunner. 

‘‘ Go easy,” the boatswain protested. “ ’Tis thick yet, 
and who knows what’s by ? Maybe we’ll have all the Dun- 
kirk fleet on us.” 

“ Oh, maybe we’ll die if we live long enough.” 

At the third shot they brought her foremast down. She 
had not fired an answering gun. They ran alongside and 
grappled and boarded fore and aft. Her deck was all 
wreckage, and wounded men — more wreck than their fire 
had made, more men helpless than the crushing mast had 
struck down. There was hardly a show of fight. Wearily, 
sullenly, the Frenchmen let themselves be bound. Not 
many needed bonds. Dick shouted in his bad French for 
their captain, and a little man with a bloody bandage about 
his head limped forward. 

Pardon, monsieur. You are a little late. I regret that 
I could give you no entertainment. Six hours earlier, and 
I should have had the pleasure to annihilate you. I can- 
not enough regret.” 

Such graces were not in Dick’s nature. 

“ That’s well crowed,” he growled. “ You go aboard 
there and we’ll come to business.” 

The Frenchman shrugged. 

“ I see that you have no soul. It is to me a humiliation.” 

Dick snarled at him. Dick was not gentle in showing 
him the way down to his cabin. When they were there, 

“ And now — you which crows so fine — what ha’ you 
got aboard?” 


190 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


The Frenchman made a grimace and a gesture. 

Splinters, and blood and death,” he said theatrically. 

Dick stretched over the table. 

“Look ’e, my lad; I talk to you polite because you're 
beat. If you give me trouble, by God you shall have it! 
What I want to know will come out as well wi' a knotted 
cord as fair words.” 

“ My compliments on your politeness,” the Frenchman 
shrugged. “ But it is as I have the honour to tell you. 
There is, alas! nothing of value aboard my ship but the 
blood of my poor fellows and their death.” 

“ It’s a lie,” Dick growled, and the Frenchman put up his 
eyebrows in amused contempt. “You had but just took 
a ship.” 

“ Perfectly,” the Frenchman smiled. “ And it will cer- 
tainly be a great pleasure to you to know that it was of 
your compatriots. You have, therefore, the honour to res- 
cue her captain and restore him his cargo. A deed so 
heroic ! ” 

“ Bah ! What was his cargo ? ” 

“Alas! you have no esprit. Always the man of busi- 
ness. But do not be discouraged. Monsieur can still be 
heroic, without hurting the feelings of his pocket. The 
cargo was nothing but tar and fagots. It will be no loss 
to restore them to your compatriot, whom I wish with all 
my heart I had never seen. Set him afloat on his tar- 
barrels ; I give you my permission.” 

“Cargo of tar and fagots?” Dick frowned. “What a 
plague should a ship do with such ? ” 

“ It is what I asked myself. It is also what I asked your 
compatriot, the red-haired captain. He would only an- 
swer rudely that I was a pirate. Which was not apropos. 
Nevertheless, it is as I have the honour to tell you. You 
will And the tar aboard my poor ship. And also your com- 
patriot. I abandoned his fagots. And his ship, which 
was indeed no better than fagots.” 


UP CHANNEL 


191 

At this moment a man came to tell Dick that aboard the 
French lugger they had found Scotsmen tied up. Dick 
bade them bring their leader, and turned on the French- 
man. 

‘‘ Scots they are. You said he was my countryman.’' 

The Frenchman shrugged. 

“Scots — English — you talk the same kind of French. 
It is all the same. Both of you — you have no soul, and, 
what is worse, no esprit/^ 

Dick snarled and strode out. The boatswain met him 
on the poop. 

“ Have you gutted her ? ” he grunted. 

“ There’s naught but tar-barrels in her, and that’s queer, 
I allow.” 

“ Get the men aboard and cast off and make sail,” Dick 
drawled, and began to pull at his lip. 

The boatswain nodded. 

“ Ay, ay, we’m wool-gathering, to be sure.” 

But Dick brooded over the water. He turned at the 
grate of a Scots oath and found himself fronting a gaunt 
fellow with a shock of red hair, who demanded hoarsely 
where he was and what Dick was, and what had come of 
the French devil. Dick nodded at him: “Do ’e come 
and see, my lad,” and down to the cabin they went. 

The Scot passed the doorway, saw the Frenchman, and 
stormed in French, which was chiefly Scots. The French- 
man was a filthy pirate, and no seaman at all. He was a 
treacherous villain in the pay of those idolatrous tyrants 
the Guises, — a pirate, a hired murderer. Nevertheless, it 
should not profit him or his accursed masters. 

Dick scratched his head. It was all mysterious and very 
interesting. He tapped the Scot’s shoulder. 

“ Ay, ay, my lad, that’s what he is. Now what be you 
if you please? ” 

The Scot was ready enough. He was James Ferguson, 
out of Leith, captain of the hoy Agnes, and captured, crew 


192 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

and all, and his boat pillaged and sunk by the piratical 
Frenchmen. 

‘‘ You’ll ha’ lost a fortune, to be sure,” Dick sympathised. 

The Scot seemed to hesitate a moment. Then he talked 
loud of ruin. 

Dick nodded. 

“ Ay, ay, tar’ll be dear in Leith. And fagots too. 
But if they be worth so much in Scotland, why would you 
take ’em to sea? ” 

The Scot stared at him, desired, with an oath, to know 
what affair it was of his, demanded to be let go. 

‘‘ Let ye go, quotha ! ” Dick gaped. “ To be sure, who’s 
keeping you? Fly away and welcome. I ha’ no will to 
find you victuals.” 

The Scot was something discomfited. The Frenchman, 
who understood -nothing of their English talk, but saw his 
retreat, gave a saturnine laugh. Dick allowed himself to 
grin. The Scot stared from one to the other, and then 
broke out at Dick. They were making game of him. 
They had some device together. Was Dick English? Let 
him answer that. 

“ God ha’ mercy ! Answer ye ! ” Dick said. ‘‘ What’s 
this of devising together? I find you aboard a dirty French 
pirate that attacked me, and you tell me I be standing wi’ 
he ! Am I English ? Be you in your senses ? ” 

“If ye be English, ma mon,” quoth the Scot haughtily, 
“ look to it what way ye deal by me, or I’ll hae ye mak’ an- 
swer to your admiral.” 

Dick frowned. 

“ Hoity-toity ! What ha’ you or I to do wi’ admirals ? ” 

“Ye’ll beat up for Dover and put me ashore,” the Scot 
went on in the same tone, “ or it’ll be the worse for you 
later.” 

Dick looked him up and down. 

“ You’m not born shy, my lad. For a fellow that’s found 
on a French pirate, you do talk very pretty.” Then sud- 


UP CHANNEL 


193 


denly he changed his tone. “Fiend away with you! 
Would you give me orders on my own ship? ” He shouted 
for men, and bade them take the two away forward and tie 
them up apart. 

Then he went on deck. 


CHAPTER XIX 


INTO CALAIS 

The Reckoning ran fast before the wind, and the sky 
was brightening. Not far ahead, hove to, lay some small 
craft and a big ship. The boatswain waddled up to him. 

‘‘Same course?’’ Dick nodded. “Keep her steady on 
the wild-goose, as you might say,” the boatswain grumbled. 

Dick stared at him stupidly. 

“ What’s yon ? ” he drawled, and pointed to the small 
craft. 

The boatswain puckered his little eyes and looked long. 

“ North Country craft. Scots, I do allow. And what’ll 
they be doing hove to there, says you. They’m on a wild- 
goose chase like to we, surely.” 

“ Look ! ” Dick nodded. The Scottish craft were mak- 
ing signals. It was soon plain that they wanted speech of 
the Reckoning, One of them lowered a boat. Dick hove 
his ship to and waited. 

There came aboard a man altogether unlike the surly, 
blustering captive of the Frenchman, a man very neat, very 
precise, and very bland. He much regretted delaying Dick. 
He spoke of friendly nations and mariners’ good fellowship. 
The matter was that in the fog he had parted company from 
one of his consorts. They were going round from Leith 
to Southampton with herrings and other matters. In the 
fog a French pirate had come upon them. There had been 
fighting, and he hoped that the pirate had been beaten off. 
But when the fog lifted one of his little fleet — a hoy — 
was nowhere to be seen. He was anxious to know whether 
Dick had sighted her, or, if not her, the pirate. 

194 


INTO CALAIS 


195 


Dick was as amiable as he was mighty sorry, but had seen 
naught. They filthy pirates were the plague of the nar- 
row seas. It was villainous that English mariners should 
suffer them. But, to be sure, he had seen no pirate, and 
therefore made bold to hope the best. Very like they had 
given the knave more good Scottish iron than he could di- 
gest. And their consort, which maybe had but lost her 
bearings in the fog, might yet join them safe and sound. 
So a cup of wine was drunk and the best of friends they 
parted. 

“ Same course ? ’’ the boatswain grunted. 

“ Hold right on,’’ quoth Dick, and drew away and leaned 
over the bulwarks, according to his manner when he was 
puzzled. 

The puzzle complicated itself. Why was this second 
Scots captain so oily? Why was his fleet made up of one 
stout ship, high-charged and carrying guns, and two little 
ramshackle hoys ? Why did he say that they were freighted 
with herrings, when there was evidence that one of them 
had nothing aboard but fagots and tar? 

The first Scot was indeed still more mysterious than the 
second. He was plainly something of a dolt. It was 
natural that, having lost his temper, he should run wild and 
babble vain things. But why these particular vain things? 
Why threaten of English admirals? What had a Scot to 
do with them? That he should curse the Frenchman who 
had taken him was wholly natural too. But why talk of 
Papists and the Guises? What should a rover of Dunkirk 
have to do with religion? All would be fish that came to 
his net. Why should he care for the house of Guise ? They 
had no traffic with sea or seamen. And why, in the name 
of all things wonderful, should a Scot, sailing a little worth- 
less hoy, suppose that the great Due de Guise cared whether 
he sank or swam? Had the Guise some interest in fagots 
and tar? The more Dick thought the more absurd he 
found the whole affair. And yet he was the more certain 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


196 

that the secret of it was something in no way absurd, but 
wholly serious and marketable. 

He bade them bring the Frenchman to his cabin, and 
with him a quart of sack. The Frenchman came, and when 
he was signalled to sit down, yawned profoundly. 

‘‘ Alas ! I believed that I had done with you for a while.’' 

Dick grinned. 

“ You thought as I had no mind to you.” 

I dared to hope so, monsieur. It is the only way you 
could flatter me.” 

Dick filled him a mug of sack. 

“ You thought as I could make naught of your joking at 
me.” 

‘‘ I trust,” the Frenchman spoke with some anxiety, but 
stopped to drink — “ I trust from my heart that I was not 
wrong. Do not tell me that you understood me, monsieur, 
I beg. That would be humiliating.” 

Dick guffawed. 

‘‘ We’ll get on well, you and me.” 

‘‘ You become familiar,” said the Frenchman coldly. 
‘‘Let us understand one another You have destroyed my 
ship. I wish you all the ill in the world. I will mock at 
you with pleasure. I would destroy you if I could. Other- 
wise I will have no relation with you.” 

“You wait, my lad. Look ’e, I shot down your mast, 
but your lugger was as rackety as a hencoop before. The 
Scottish guns had done her business. Now what if I was 
to help you to a tit for tat with the Scots, and maybe what 
would buy you another boat ? ” 

The Frenchman stared. 

“ You babble, my friend. What good would that do 
you? And you — you are a man of business.” 

“ If I could do without you, to be sure I would not want 
you,” Dick grinned. “ But there’s that which I cannot see 
through of myself. And if you stand with me. I’ll play 
you fair. ’Tis the use of your wits I want.” 


INTO CALAIS 


197 


“ Monsieur, I can well believe it.” 

‘‘ And what you know o’ Dunkirk and Boulogne and 
Calais.” 

Monsieur, I am a Frenchman and not a traitor.” 

‘‘Well, and I am English,” Dick said, “but I could be a 
traitor as well as my betters. You’re frighted o’ bogies. 
But you wait till I ask you for treason. ’Tis this Scot 
troubles me.” 

“ A blot on the world, monsieur, I confess.” 

“What was he doing with his fagots and tar? And 
there’s more of these Scottish hoys with the same cargo. 
And with them the one high-charged ship which fought 
you. What’s the plan? A ship o’ guns with a string o’ 
tenders all fagots and tar. What’s that mean but fire- 
ships ? ” 

The Frenchman stared long and then drank deep. “ Par- 
don,” said he, “ you are not altogether without intelligence.” 

“ Ay, but who’s the fellow they mean their fireships for ? 
That red-haired lubber, he said you was hired by the Guise. 
Why should he think the Due de Guise wanted him scuttled? 
Was he in a plot against the Guise’s plots? What’s the 
Guise to do afloat? He’s no sailor as ever I heard.” 

The Frenchman broke into a cackling laugh. He held 
out his hand. 

“ Monsieur, my excuses. You have genius. It had es- 
caped me. I see it all. Mordieu, it is a plan. There is a 
brain somewhere in these Scots.” 

“ ’Tis you to play,” said Dick. 

“ I conceal nothing. I rely on your honour. But, mon- 
sieur, at this hour the Guise at Calais makes ready to send 
his niece Queen Mary back to Scotland. His brothers, M. 
D’Elboeuf and M. D’Aumale, and the Cardinal of Lorraine, 
they are to sail with her. You perceive? These fireships, 
they are to destroy her. They come from the rebels of 
Scotland.” 

Dick rubbed his big chin. There was a queer, humor- 


198 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


ous light in his eyes. He saw well enough now. Many 
there were in Scotland who had no desire that Mary Stuart 
should ever reign. Many in Scotland, and perhaps some in 
England. Would Queen Elizabeth be lost in grief if some- 
thing happened to her sweet cousin Mary on the voyage? 
Was the English fleet standing by to watch the issue of the 
plot? That would explain why the Scotsman babbled of 
English admirals. 

“ Seems to me I ha’ something to sell to M. de Guise in 
Calais,” Dick drawled. 

‘‘You would venture?” the Frenchman cried. Dick 
grinned at him. “ I offer myself to assist.” 

“ I’ve a notion the Guise will pay a better price to a man 
as is no Frenchman.” 

“You do not trust me, monsieur?” 

“ Well, to be sure, if you had me ashore in France you 
might be tempted. And I wouldn’t go to lead any man into 
temptation.” 

“ You do not trust me! ” the Frenchman cried tragically. 

“ Well, say as I would rather ha’ you trust me. And you 
can. But I’ll go into Calais alone.” 

When Dick went on deck the Frenchman was with him. 
The wind held still, but more lightly. The sky was cloud- 
less and mellowing. Away to westward off the cliffs of 
Gris Nez they could see the Scottish ships beating to and 
fro, questing still for their lost consort. The low French 
coast came nearer, all golden in the evening light. The 
walls and turrets of Calais, the crowded masts, stood close. 
Dick altered his course and bore away to northward. He 
looked over the side. 

“ Tide’ll be setting up the straits awhile yet.” 

“ It turns at sunset,” the Frenchman agreed. 

The Scottish ships, it seemed, had resolved that their 
search was hopeless. They gathered together, and were 
standing eastward in the wake of the Reckoning. She 


INTO CALAIS 


199 

passed Calais, and still held on, steering as though she were 
bound for Antwerp or some port in Flanders. 

‘‘To be sure there’s naught suspicious in us,” Dick said. 
Night fell. Land and Scottish ships were lost. But the 
Reckoning hoisted no lantern at mast or bow. There was 
no glimmer of light from her. She lay with all sails furled, 
silent and dark on the dark water, drifting on the ebb tide. 
Back with the tide she came till the lights of Calais were 
abeam. Then a boat sped from her shoreward. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE QUEEN SAILS 

Dick steered on the glowing beacon that marked the har-r 
hour mouth. As they drew near they heard a cry from it, 
and the clatter of men in a hurry. The land closed upon 
them on either hand, and they were challenged. Then a 
pinnace came crashing alongside to a medley of shouts. 
Lanterns blazed. The boat was held fore and aft. 

‘‘Who are you that break the laws of the port? No 
boat enters Calais harbour by night.” 

“ News for the Due de Guise, my friends,” quoth Dick 
placidly. “ News for the Due de Guise out of England.” 

“Who brings it?” 

“ Dick Draper, a mariner out of Rye. Oh, none that the 
Duke knows, but news which he hath need to hear. News 
touching Queen Mary.” 

“If you know so much, you ought to know that M. le 
Due is not at Calais.” 

For a moment Dick doubted his Frenchman. But he let 
no doubt show as he answered : 

“ Well, and he has brothers to speak for him, hath he 
not? You’re doing him ill-service who keep me from 
speech of them.” 

“ You shall have all the speech you need,” came the an- 
swer. “ Tow them to the bastion.” 

At the stone steps of the bastion they were bidden land, 
and there were huddled together by halberdiers. 

“ Keep them in guard,” cried the truculent voice from the 
pinnace. “You — the captain — Draper — what do you 
call yourself? Come aboard.” 

200 


THE QUEEN SAILS 


201 


Dick came at his leisure, drawling out : 

“You ha’ no call to be aught but civil. I came of my 
own good will out o’ good will to you. I — ” 

He was struck down to wallow in the stern sheets. 

“ Keep that for the Cardinal.” 

In a moment they came alongside a big, low craft, a gal- 
ley gleaming with light from every cabin. The truculent 
master of the pinnace swung aboard, was gone a little while, 
and came back to drag Dick after him. Firmly held be- 
tween two soldiers, with the master of the pinnace leading, 
Dick was brought to a cabin where sat a clean-shaven man 
all red robes. He was plump and handsome; he smiled 
generously, but there was something cruel in his face. Dick 
guessed him the Cardinal of Lorraine — fancied that to 
cardinals one ought to kneel — concluded that he had best 
not know too much of what he ought to do; and so, the sol- 
diers permitting, plucked off his hat. For the rest, he 
looked stupid. 

“ Dick Draper, out of Rye, if you please,” he said, and 
gasped as one overcome by greatness. 

“ You are condemned to be hanged, Dick Draper,” said 
the Cardinal pleasantly. Dick gaped. “ If a man comes 
to Calais by night, it is the law of the port that he is hanged 
from the bastion. You knew that, doubtless.” 

“ Now that’s hard, surely,” Dick whined. “ Me, which 
came to help the Guise and Queen Mary.” 

“ You are benevolent, Dick Draper,” the Cardinal smiled. 
“ Well, my friend, you have put your neck in a noose. 
Why?” 

“ For to serve you, to be sure. And to turn a penny for 
myself, I don’t deny, if you will be so good. Why else, my 
lord?” 

“ Why else is in effect the question,” the Cardinal smiled. 
“ The Guise knows how to reward service, though it is but 
the service of a Dick Draper. And also how to punish 
treachery, though it be but Dick Draper’s.” 


202 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Dick gave a roar of laughter. 

“Treachery, says you! Me in an open boat with six 
mariners ! What treachery should I do? Nay, I bring you 
news.” Though the Cardinal’s smooth face did not change, 
Dick saw that he was doing well. “ You hear me, and say 
if hanging is what I am worth.” 

The Cardinal laughed gently. 

“ I shall not hesitate, my friend. Go on.” 

But as Dick opened his mouth a woman swept into the 
room. She was silver-grey and white and black. She was 
very lithe and slight, so that she seemed rather a phantom 
of light and shadow than a mortal body. Yet she bore a 
woman’s graces finely wrought, and for all her fragility she 
was not small, and strength was alert in her. Her face 
was thin and pale, but of a calm beauty. It told nothing 
of her nature. It had in its mystery a compelling charm. 
Her hair flamed bronze and gold beneath a cap embroidered 
with pearls. 

“ Why — who is this, my lord? ” she cried sharply. 

“ I am finding out,” the Cardinal said. “ I doubt he is 
nothing,” and looked a wish that she should leave them. 

But Dick cried out: 

“ Is that madame the Queen ? I ha’ news for you, 
madame, if you please. News out of England.” 

Mary of Scots looked him over, and it seems that he drew 
himself up and stood square. He must have been a sturdy, 
lusty figure of a man for all his loose limbs. She smiled. 

“ Speak out, then, good fellow.” The Cardinal made as 
if he would rise, but she stayed him with one thin hand on 
his shoulder. “ Speak out. Have no fear.” 

“ Which, by your leave, I ha’ not,” said Dick, and she 
smiled a little. There may have been a laugh in his eyes. 
He went on with his tale adroitly. “Tt was in the fog. 
There came into Rye a Scottish hoy which had lost her way. 
And the captain, calling himself Jamie Ferguson, he fell 
a-drinking in the taverns and he talked.” 


THE QUEEN SAILS 203 

“ Wait ! ” the Cardinal broke in sharply. He waved his 
hand to the soldiers. “ You may go.” 

Dick was left alone with Cardinal and Queen. 

He is not very terrible, I think,” she smiled. 

Dick’s lazy eye gleamed at her. 

‘‘ There’s those in Scotland think you terrible, madame, 
so it seems. For they ha’ no mind that you should ever 
come there.” He saw her hand close on the Cardinal’s 
shoulder, a spasm in her face. This fellow, this Jamie 
Ferguson, let out as he came from Leith, and two other 
hoys all laden with fagots and tar, and a big ship with 
guns. And the plan is that when you do sail for Scotland, 
madame, o’ some calm night, the hoys should be brought 
foul o’ your ship and set o’ fire. For they hope to do your 
business so, or else the other, the big thing, taking you in 
your confusion, will sink you wi’ her guns. That’s my 
news, madame.” 

The Cardinal bent his brows, and looked Dick through 
and through. The Queen’s face was drawn. She bent 
and whispered to the Cardinal’s ear in Latin. 

“You see — these Scotsmen — already they would mur- 
der me. If I go, I go to be sacrificed.” 

Dick did not understand, but he read her fear plain. 

In the same language, in the same low tone, the Cardinal 
answered : 

“ It does not become you to fear. You are of the blood 
of Guise.” 

She drew in her breath, took her hand from his shoulder, 
stepped back a pace, and stood erect. 

“ You forget yourself, my lord,” she said. “ I was born 
a Queen.” 

And Dick, who had understood nothing, saw that her 
fear was gone. 

“ I think it likely you have spoken truly, Dick Draper,” 
he said. “ Your tale matches with rumours we have heard 


204 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


of others. Else I might not have believed it. What do 
you want of me? ” 

The Cardinal bent his head, showed no resentment, sym- 
pathy, or other feeling. 

What if s worth,’' said Dick sharply. “ Would you say 
five hundred pound was too much for a Queen ? ” 

‘‘ You shall be paid.” The Cardinal spoke with careless 
contempt. There was a moment’s pause, and then for the 
first time Dick saw something genial in his face. “ If I 
read you right, you are something better than a seller of 
tavern talk.” 

“ There’s more than talk I’ve to sell to be sure,” Dick 
grinned. ‘‘Now as I came across Channel I saw Scottish 
hoys and their big ship lying in the offing here waiting for 
you. Well, you’ll be wanting to sail quick. Though you 
be ready for the worst they can do, you’ll not want to take 
madame here upon more risk than needs be. So then, give 
me a fast sailing lugger for the open boat I came in, and 
I’ll make an end of those fireships. To-night, if the wind 
serves, we’ll board them, the morrow night o’ the latest — 
it’s but two or three men they carry — we’ll put the torch 
to them. Is that worth another five hundred pound, my 
lord?” 

“You expect me to trust you then?” The Cardinal 
smiled. “ Prithee, Dick Draper of Rye, why should I not 
send out my own men ? ” 

“And if they fail of it, if the big ship takes them, here’s 
a pretty tale for madame’s coming to Scotland — how her 
uncle sends out o’ Calais pirates to harry honest Scottish 
boats. Nay, let me go, and if I burn ’em, all’s well, and if 
they take me, as they will not, ’tis no blame o’ yours. None 
would call me French.” 

“ I think not,” the Cardinal laughed. 

“ Well, then. If your sentries on the bastion see a blaze 
at sea to-night, you are to know the sea’s clear for madame. 
If there’s no fire till to-morrow night, you wait till the day 


THE QUEEN SAILS 205 

after. But if you see naught before then, send out and 
sweep the sea yourself.” 

The Queen laughed merrily. 

He gives us his leave, our Dick Draper.” 

Dick jerked a bow at her and laughed back. He looked 
at her a moment and made a step forward. What odd no- 
tion was in his head he does not seem to have been sure. 
He was vividly conscious that he was a man and she a 
woman. 

She did not draw back or turn away. Her eyes still 
mocked him. She held out her hand. 

Dick took it, let it rest frail on his hard, dark fingers a 
moment too long. Then he went down on his knee and 
duly kissed it. As he rose he looked in her eyes again and 
again she laughed. 

It seems that he always believed there was never a woman 
like her: never another who could demand of a man so 
much. 

Then he sailed away from her with a swift lugger and 
a thousand pounds. At an hour before midnight he left 
Calais harbour. The sky was clear, but, by good fortune, 
the moon was not to rise till close upon dawn. The wind 
held still. He had picked his half-dozen men well, and 
whatever was in their heads, they were content to obey with- 
out babbling. The first difficult business was to find their 
own ship. The Scotch craft were easily seen, for they, 
fearful of fouling each other, bore their lanterns like honest 
boats. But the Reckoning was lost in the night. The 
boatswain had his orders to keep her a little to windward 
of the Scots, between them and the land. Dick’s lugger 
beat to and fro some time while he fumed in rare impa- 
tience, before a high poop loomed up above her, and they 
hailed discreetly, and ran alongside. 

It was the Frenchman he sought first, and the Frenchman 
rushed upon him crying, ‘‘What fortune? What for- 
tune ? ” 


2o6 the sea captain 

Dick held off his exuberance, one big hand on his shoul- 
der. 

“ Ha’ you a mind to earn yourself another boat and a 
hundred pound ? ” 

The Frenchman laughed at him. 

‘‘ Have I a mind ? Have I a mind to my salvation ? ” 

“ Well, maybe you had best do without that,” Dick 
grinned. “ How many men was there o’ the hoy you 
took?” 

‘‘Four!” the Frenchman swore and spat. “No more 
than four. It was the big fellow that did our damage.” 

“ Four, and there’s a dozen o’ your fellows fit to fight. 
Well, then. Take them aboard that Calais lugger and run 
down close on the hoys. I’ll answer for the big ship. 
When you hear my guns, lay aboard the hoy that’s nearest, 
and master her and set her afire. Then the same wi’ the 
other. It should be all done in half an hour, if you be 
smart. Fireships, to be sure! We’ll give them fireships. 
And when you’ve done your business steer nor’-east, and 
you’ll find me wi’ a hundred pound for you.” 

The Frenchman stared speechless. It is certain that the 
terms were generous. You may wonder why Dick chose 
to let the Frenchman share his profit. I wonder why, since 
he had his money safe, he took the trouble to do anything. 
But, after all, when he made a bargain of his own choice, 
he preferred as a rule to stand by it. I think he had a taste 
for the Frenchman. I am sure, from those queer hints in 
his papers, that Mary of Scots had waked in him emotions. 

The Frenchman began to gush thanks, and boast, and 
was swiftly checked. 

“ I’ll give you a barrel o’ powder to help the fire along. 
I’ll give you pikes and cutlasses for your men. God bless 
you, I’ll give you those Scotchmen that you took. For 
maybe they’d be a nuisance to me.” 

So the surly Scottish captain and his two men were flung 
into the lugger’s cabin. With her crew of Frenchmen all 


THE QUEEN SAILS 


207 


quivering excitement, she drew away from the Reckoning. 
A mile away to leeward the lights of the Scottish flotilla 
dipped and twinkled. 

The Reckoning made sail while Dick talked to his gunner. 
His long guns, demi-cannon, had a range of some three- 
quarters of a mile, and threw a thirty-pound shot. He 
wanted to put the big Scottish ship out of action, yet take 
no harm himself. It was idle to risk firing at full range 
by night. There was some chance of damage if they ran 
close. I suppose that Dick cared little whether he failed or 
not. He felt it worth trying to see whether he could do it, 
and for the sport of it. Since he had nothing to care for 
but running away, he had no fear of the issue. And chance 
and his gunner brought him success. 

The Reckoning, all dark, ran as close to the lights as the 
gunner asked, and as she passed fired all her broadside of 
six. Its thunder was still rolling over the sea while her 
younkers scurried aloft and shook out every stitch of sail. 
Before the wind the Reckoning drew away fast. Dick con- 
ceived that he had risked enough for the sake of his emo- 
tions. 

But there was no need of haste. No gun answered that 
broadside. When the Reckoning drew clear of the smoke 
they saw that the highest lights of the flotilla were blotted 
out. They heard the crash of falling timber and shouts. 
A moment more and a tongue of flame leapt out of the sea. 
The Frenchman had fallen to his work. 

The glow astern faded out into the dawn twilight. The 
breeze freshened, and on the Reckoning they shortened sail. 
Soon the Frenchman's lugger came chasing them, and a 
jovial shout brought the news. The big ship had her main- 
mast shot away. The hoys had been burnt, and all was 
well. It was to be expected that the big fellow would drift 
ashore between Calais and Gravelines. The Reckoning 
hove to, and the lugger ran under her quarter, and Dick 
tossed a bag of money aboard. 


2o8 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


God bless you, and you forget you ever saw me. Til 
swear I never saw you,'' he cried, and the Frenchman waved 
his hand, and bade him '' Au diable! Au revoir!” Then 
the Reckoning went about, and keeping in mid-channel or 
something to the English side, beat westward again. 

That afternoon, as the wind was falling towards sunset, 
a great galley and two high-charged ships passed them steer- 
ing northward. Through the flood of light they saw the 
standards of Scotland and France. Mary Stuart had bid- 
den her last farewell to the land she loved. Dick stood a 
long while gazing after her, and only turned when the 
boatswain tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to sails 
ahead. 

They came on fast, and soon they were made out Eng- 
lish ships of war. 

“ God ha’ mercy, here’s the admirals ! ” Dick grinned to 
himself. They started signalling from afar. They sent a 
boat to board him, and a lordly creature. Admiral Winter, 
was obsequiously received. Dick’s ship had come through 
the straits? To be sure, out of Flushing, sailing for Ply- 
mouth. Had she seen any Scottish craft? Why, there was 
a galley, and some big ships flying both Scottish blazons and 
French — very haughty and grand. Admiral Winter be- 
trayed impatience, even bad temper. He seemed to dislike 
excessively the tale of those standards of Scotland and 
France. 

“ Begging your pardon, surely,” Dick protested. “ You 
did ask what I seed.” 

‘‘ I saw that myself, fellow,” said the Admiral tartly. 

Have you seen naught else under a Scottish flag? ” 

Dick scratched his head. 

‘‘ To be sure, there was a fellow yesterday, a big ship with 
some queer little tubs about him, hailed to ask if I had 
come upon French pirates. They did snap up one of his 
tubs seemly, and take her into Calais. But I seed naught 


THE QUEEN SAILS 209 

o' they, thanks be. And no more o’ he neither. Maybe 
they got he, too, last night.” 

The admiral muttered an oath, and turned away without 
courtesy. Then he checked himself and came back to bid 
Dick forget all about him. 

“ Why, that’s hard, too. So fine as your honour is,” 
Dick protested. “ But to be sure, I ha’ never seed you nor 
you I neither. See, there’s the Frenchy-Scotty galley.” 
He pointed northward. “ She’m well away, to be sure.” 

The Admiral with another oath went over the side, Dick 
humbly attendant. 

“ So that was his talk of admirals,” Dick communed with 
himself. ‘‘ England was in the play, too. Well, God ha’ 
mercy, she hath beat England this game,” and he watched 
the little fleet, now tiny dark things on the horizon. 

So Mary of Scots was brought safe to her realm and the 
fortune which waited her there, and the Reckoning sailed 
away to her proper business on the coasts of Barbary. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 

There was complicated war in the Mediterranean Sea. 
From Gibraltar to Syria the galleys of the Barbary pirates 
cruised, hunting Christian ships, and plundered and slew 
abundantly. They in their turn were hunted. The 
Knights of Malta, who were poor and desperate, found 
them useful prey. In its portly, respectable fashion the 
navy of Genoa did intermittent execution upon them. The 
Emperor Charles, when he happened to remember them, 
would gather armadas. But there was never an end of 
them. Whenever Christendom was irritated into united 
endeavour against them, they drew together under Kheyr- 
ed-Din Barbarossa, the red-bearded Greek, who had made 
himself King of Algiers and Captain-General of the fleet 
of the Grand Turk. He was a man to defy the world 
profitably. 

Despite all the perils of piracy, many merchant ships still 
plied about their business. Europe still craved spices and 
oils, perfumes and fabrics from the East, and the profits of 
the trade were the greater for its perils. So there were al- 
ways seamen enough to venture on the chance of a safe 
run, or the fortune of flight or fight. So the pirates never 
killed all the geese that laid the golden eggs, and they pros- 
pered abundantly. But I think there was never a captain 
of Algiers or Tunis made more out of piracy than Dick 
Rymingtowne in the Reckoning. 

Do not misjudge him. He was immaculately virtuous. 
He only plundered the heathen. No Christian ship was the 
worse for him. He had too much sense for that. It seems 

210 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 


2II 


that he even rescued one from desperate plight. Whether 
he wanted to we will not inquire. He only did it once, 
and somehow he never had the chance but once. It is plain 
that he had extraordinary luck in finding pirate galleys full 
of plunder. Perhaps it was more extraordinary that he 
should always have missed them completely till all was over 
with their prey. Yet his fame in Genoa and Malta was of 
the noblest. He brought so many slaves back to Christen- 
dom and freedom. But the pirate galleys, when they la- 
boured back to port battered from the fight, laden deep with 
spoils, began to keep eager watch to windward for the top- 
masts of that Bristol ship. That they never caught her I 
do not wonder at all. The pirates, for all their fighting 
quality, were poor seamen, and their galleys lubberly craft, 
no match for a ship handy and well handled, with enough 
of men and arms. The English shipwrights and the Eng- 
lish mariners were soon to prove their mastery on better 
men than the pirates of Barbary. 

Through the bank of St. George at Genoa Dick had sent 
to Bristol, to Alderman Fry, moneys which surprised that 
churlish fellow into delight. For he did not know how 
much stood to Dick’s own credit in the Genoese ledgers. A 
modester man than Dick might have held that his fortune 
was made. Dick had a great capacity for wanting. So 
you see the Reckoning, best-found of all ships on that six- 
teenth century sea, even the younkers in her as gorgeous as 
gentlemen at Court, beating southward of Malta about her 
old business. 

They sighted a carrack that surprised them. She was a 
gaudy craft, with painted sails and arabesques of gilding 
about her fantastic hull. Every line of her warranted her a 
Turk. A child could have told that she was for parade and 
pleasure, not war. It was vastly strange that such a holi- 
day craft should come sailing west without escort. Dick 
suspected a trap. But what trap could there be? There 
was not a galley in sight, and if there were they could do 


212 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


little. Open sea and a brisk breeze were not conditions in 
which they could fight. Dick resolved that there was noth- 
ing to fear, crossed her stern, and fired at her. 

She answered by setting all her canvas, and plunged away 
before the wind. She sailed well enough, and her captain 
understood his business. He kept the masts of the Reckon- 
ing in a line with his own, so that before Dick could bring 
a gun to bear he had to put the helm over and stop his 
ship’s way and drop astern. But the English gunners were 
not to be denied. They shot away the carrack’s mizzen, they 
made her poop a wreck, and she answered her helm no 
more, fell away, and lay helpless, rolling broadside on to 
wind and swell. The Reckoning ran down and grappled 
her and boarded. It was no long fight. The carrack’s 
crew did well enough, and her captain better than well, lash- 
ing with broken scimitar till he was overborne by sheer 
weight of men. But in numbers as in arms the Reckoning 
had greatly the advantage, and Dick counted it one of the 
easiest of all his captures. 

When they came to pillage the carrack they were some- 
thing disappointed. She was richly furnished indeed. She 
might have served for the yacht of the Grand Turk’s chief 
wife. But she had no cargo. There was little profit in her 
except in the hull itself. With some hesitation — for he 
preferred to scuttle his prizes — Dick concluded to take her 
into Genoa. The crew were brought aboard the Reckoning, 
the wreckage was cut away, and new gear rigged to the rud- 
der head. The boatswain, Nick Antony, with half a dozen 
men, took charge of her, and she and the Reckoning laid a 
course northward for Genoa. 

Then Dick began to see what he could make of his pris- 
oners. The desperate captain, a big fellow, swarthy and 
handsome in the Turkish fashion, would understand noth- 
ing and answer nothing. When Dick threatened, his 
gloomy brow betrayed no fear or any other feeling save 
contempt. Some of his crew were as stubborn; some, 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 213 

swearing themselves Christian by birth and heart, pressed 
to the service of the Turk with torture and fear of death, 
babbled easily all they knew. They had sailed from Con- 
stantinople with a fleet of galleys under Kheyr-ed-Din Bar- 
barossa, bound for Algiers. In the squally wind of the 
day before the fleet was scattered. During the night their 
carrack had lost sight of its escort. There was not much 
to help Dick in all that, but they told him one thing more. 
Their captain was Dragut Reis. 

Now Dragut Reis was a chief among the lieutenants of 
Kheyr-ed-Din. If rumour told true Kheyr-ed-Din valued 
him more than any man alive, and his ransom must be 
worth many a prize. It was odd, indeed, that he should 
be caught upon a ship not built for war; but the reason of 
that mattered little. Kheyr-ed-Din would pay no less for 
him. 

I do not think that Dick Rymingtowne ever loved cour- 
tesy for its own sake. I doubt if he ever wanted to be chiv- 
alrous. But he had a sense of humour. So Dragut Reis 
was unbound and brought to a cabin where they put water 
and perfumes and purple and fine linen. After a decent 
interval Dick came in blue velvet and smiles, and bowed like 
a courtier (so he says, but I think he flatters himself), and, 
“ Sir,” quoth he magnificently, “ since the fortune of war 
hath made us shipmates, I beg that I may welcome to my 
table the most illustrious Dragut Reis.” 

After a moment Dragut laughed, and it was as if his 
fierce, handsome face were hidden behind a mask. 

“ So you have found one of my rascals to blab my name! 
I hope I may cut the dog’s tongue out.” 

‘‘Why be at the trouble?” Dick smiled. “To be sure 
I am glad to know you for what you are, that I may treat 
you as beseems. And for my part I can’t tell why you’ld 
not tell.” 

Again Dragut laughed. 

“ If you were Dragut Reis, my friend, and a Christian’s 


214 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


prisoner, you would not have him know his good fortune/* 

‘‘ There’s no man alive need take shame to be taken by 
Captain Rymingtowne. But ’twixt such as we ’tis all in 
the turn of the luck. To-day I’m your host Signor Dra- 
gut; to-morrow your guest maybe.” 

‘‘ I promise you entertainment,” said Dragut, and his 
mouth set hard. 

‘‘ Then enjoy mine. Not for long, I doubt. Barbarossa 
will pay any money to have you back again.” 

They were now at table in Dick’s cabin. Dick spoke 
carelessly, bent over his carving. But he was well aware 
that Dragut stared, and thought before he spoke. 

If you think I matter to Barbarossa more than a dog 
you are mightily wrong.” Dick looked up, smiling in- 
credulous surprise as though he heard mock modesty. But 
he had not missed something of suspicion, something of 
hostility in the tone. He did not understand, but it was 
more important to pretend that he had marked nothing. 
Dragut went on : “ Why, what fancy makes you hope 

Barbarossa will ransom me?” 

God save us ! All Christendom knows you his best 
lieutenant.” 

Dragut seemed more at ease. He laughed. 

‘Hf you knew Barbarossa, you would know that I or 
any other man alive am worth nothing to him. He needs 
none of us. We are as dust on his shoes.” 

Dick stared and began to look stupid — a sign, if Dra- 
gut had known him, that he was growing dangerous. 

Well now,” he drawled. ‘‘ To hear that! Dust on his 
shoes, quotha! There’s what I would never let any man 
think of me.” 

“ My good friend,” Dragut sneered, if ever you meet 
Barbarossa — as I much hope — he will teach you to en- 
dure many things.” 

Well, well, maybe I could teach him a thing and a half,” 
Dick drawled, and gave a fatuous laugh. 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 215 

Dragut, as it seems, wrote him down a fool, and they did 
not make good company. Dragut maintained the sullen, 
ferocious temper natural to his situation. Dick was stupid 
and boastful. When they parted he felt confident that Dra- 
gut no longer imagined that he suspected anything. He 
paced the deck, giving his whole mind to discover what 
there was to suspect. 

Dragut had been startled by Dick’s assurance that Bar- 
barossa would pay high for his ransom. Why? It was 
plainly to be expected. Every day prisoners were brought 
back to freedom by Christian and Moor, and so famous a 
captain as Dragut must be sought, whatever the price. 
Dragut wished Dick to believe that Barbarossa cared noth- 
ing for him. Why? All the world knew that he was the 
best of Barbarossa’s lieutenants. Had he quarrelled with 
his master? Would he have to pay his own ransom? Or 
was there some deeper mystery ? Why had he been sailing 
in a pleasure ship without guns or fighting men? Be- 
cause Barbarossa had cast him off? But he had been 
sailing with Barbarossa and a whole armada in es- 
cort. They had not quarrelled then. He was still Bar- 
barossa’s man. There was some deeper mystery. Dick 
laughed to himself as he watched the captured ship plung- 
ing in the wake of the Reckoning. The pirates had given 
him an alluring puzzle to unravel, and it was likely that he 
had made a pestilent puzzle for them. 

The wind rose again before nightfall, and after dark it 
grew stormy. The Reckoning made good enough weather 
of it, but when dawn came, pale gold over a sea all black 
and grey, her prize was not to be seen. For some hours 
they beat about, seeking her in vain. Then over the hori- 
zon came the masts of a fleet — Barbarossa’s armada. To 
linger was to be lost. The Reckoning set her course for 
Genoa again. But Dick glowered at the sea. It was too 
likely that his prize and his men had fallen to Barbarossa. 
The carrack, no very seaworthy craft at her best, and bat- 


2i6 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


tered from the fight, might well have been disabled by the 
night’s storm and left a helpless prey. He cursed himself 
for wasting men aboard her. But he had not thought 
that in such weather the galleys could keep together on a 
course. Perhaps there were better sea-boats than galleys 
in that fleet. It loomed large upon the horizon, a rare 
armada — another mystery indeed. But there was nothing 
to be done against it. He set all the sail he dared carry, 
and soon the Moorish masts dropped out of sight again. 

At dinner Dragut met him with a sneer. 

“ So you have not taken much by your pains. Sir Chris- 
tian.” 

Dick scratched his head and gave a silly guffaw. 

I have taken you at the least. D’ye know, I think I’ll 
keep you.” Which did not make Dragut more amiable. 

They had no more adventures till the crowded houses of 
Genoa rose tier upon tier above them and they anchored 
inside the Molo Vecchio. Then Dick took order with Dra- 
gut Reis. 

“ By your leave, you’ll keep your cabin till I hear of ran- 
som for you.” 

Dragut scowled at him. 

“ Here’s a cowardly caution. Should I grow wings and 
fly to Barbary ? ” 

Dick grinned. 

Aw, you’re a great man, to be sure, and who knows? 
So you’ll please to keep your cabin.” 

And so to a cabin Dragut was kept, with a guard at the 
door day and night, and none of the prisoners was let 
ashore, and Dick waited. 

He was, I suppose, impatient, though he does not confess 
to impatience in all his life. He desired anxiously to save his 
boatswain alive, and I believe that was his chief concern. 
He had no doubt that Barbarossa would count Dragut 
worth many boatswains. He waited for Barbarossa to move. 

If he was feeling loyal and affectionate, you suppose that 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 217 

he might have moved himself. There were, indeed, ways 
of sending a message to Algiers. He could make a shrewd 
guess which of the respectable merchants of Genoa was 
Barbarossa's agent. But if he seemed eager to get his 
boatswain, the boatswain would be all the harder to get. 
Also the market value of Dragut would fall. I do not be- 
lieve Dick cared for that. But if he seemed eager, if he 
rushed to make terms, there was no chance of making Bar- 
barossa show his hand, and betray something of the mystery 
of Dragut and the armada. For that he did care. He had 
resolved to get his finger into Barbarossa’s mysterious pie. 
And so he waited. 

He had a week to wait. It was one of the four times in 
his life which saw his steady nerves grow troublesome. At 
the end of a week, on a morning early, a boat came along- 
side, and in it, much becloaked, was the reverend form of 
Alessandro Montaldi. Dick inspected him through a port- 
hole, and grinned satisfaction. 

“It is you, is it?” he said to himself. “And the devil 
of a time you ha’ kept me waiting.” So he let Signor Mon- 
taldi wait half an hour for him. Montaldi was the man 
he had guessed Barbarossa’s agent. 

Montaldi had repute in Genoa as heir to an old and hon- 
ourable name. He had inherited little else. He was un- 
derstood to do business, like his ancestors, with the East, 
but any who sought business with him found him evasive. 
Yet he contrived to live in state. He was everywhere hon- 
ourably received. He was popular among the seamen and 
common folk. There was no scandal against him. Even 
in the permitted traffic of ransoming Moorish slaves, with 
which all the other Eastern merchants meddled at whiles, 
he was never concerned. But for all his high family and 
his good repute, the little company who, without ostenta- 
tion, ruled trade and policy kept him out of their intimacy. 

Dick had him brought below by men who, knowing no 
more than a word or two of anything but English, could 


2i8 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


answer no questions. They were told to leave him alone in 
Dick’s cabin. When Dick came in silently he was sitting 
by Dick’s papers. Dick smiled at him benignly. There 
was nothing in them that could serve him. But some of 
them were still quivering. 

“ I do hope you ha’ not been dull,” said Dick. “ If I 
had known of your coming I would not ha’ been busy.” 

Montaldi bowed — he was a grave, austere man — doubt- 
ing not that Dick had many matters on hand. 

A sea captain’s always busy,” said Dick, and waited. 

And you have been prosperously of late,” Montaldi 
smiled. 

‘‘ Have I to be sure ? ” Dick’s face grew stupid. Then 
you know more than I.” 

“ Why, sir, it’s common talk you have a rich bevy of 
prisoners.” 

“ Have you come to buy them ? ” 

Montaldi laughed. 

‘‘ By what I hear they’re slaves that will sell.” 

“ That’s more than I hope. A crew of lubbers and rene- 
gades.” 

“ A renegade may fetch his price.” 

“ Come, I ha’ no time for talk. Do you bid for ’em ? ” 

“ What ! without seeing them ? My good sir, how can I 
tell what they’re worth ? ” 

‘‘ Then you may go back to shore again. I have no time 
for haggling. I sail to-night.” 

Montaldi betrayed some agitation. 

“ Why, then, you drive a hard bargain. I bid you fifty 
ducats a head for all you have.” 

It was a good price for slaves — too good for slaves a 
man had not seen. 

‘‘ And what might you be wanting with slaves ? ” said 
Dick. “ You ha’ no galleys that ever I heard.” 

‘‘ I do not buy for myself. But what is that to you if 
the ducats are good?” 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 219 

Dick grinned. 

“ Why, my lad, I doubt your ducats come from Barbary. 
Out with it! I know why you are here.” 

Montaldi cried out: 

** What do you mean? You think I have a commission 
to ransom them ? ” 

‘‘Ay, I think that and more. Now, what do you bid? 
Remember I sail to-night.” 

Let me see them first.” 

Not a man. And I sail to-night.” 

Montaldi protested nervously. It was idle to think of 
doing business so. He could swear that Dick would never 
make so much of them from any other man. The whole 
affair was in his hands. 

‘‘No doubt of that, my lad. I know you are Barbarossa's 
man.” 

Montaldi was frightened. After a moment he began to 
talk on a high note about folly and insolence and his noble 
family. 

“ I ha’ no time,” Dick cried out. “If you come 
here from Barbarossa you can stay; if not, get over the 
side.” 

“ You talk so wildly,” Montaldi protested. “ It is but a 
matter of buying them back — an everyday matter.” 

“ Tis not every day Barbarossa buys back Dragut Reis. 
What do you bid ? ” 

Montaldi gasped a little. It was plain that he had hoped 
Dick would not know his prisoner. 

“If you have Dragut Reis — if he is unhurt — my 
friends would pay a thousand ducats.” 

Dick laughed. 

“ Well, well, there is plenty of time. Barbarossa will go 
higher than that in a month or two.” 

“ A month or two ! ” Montaldi echoed, and Dick saw that 
time was matter of importance. He was getting near the 
mystery. 


220 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Ay, you can come and bid again when I am back from 
my cruise at the end of the summer/' 

“No, no!" Montaldi gave a nervous laugh. “Let us 
have done now. Come, I can pay you two thousand to have 
him free at once." 

“ Barbarossa’s in a mighty hurry for him," Dick said. 
“ Nay, my lad. I’ll take my time. Barbarossa has some 
men of mine; had you heard of it?" Montaldi shook his 
head. “ Well, they are no great account, but I’ll not let 
Dragut go till I have them safe again." 

“ I never heard of your men," Montaldi cried petulantly. 

“ Well, wait till you do." 

“ But I tell you Dragut must be free at once." 

Dick whistled. 

“ It takes two to put must to that, my lad. And I want 
my men first." 

“ And I tell you we know nothing of your men." 

“ Do you not now ? ’’ 

Dick grinned cunning incredulity to annoy Montaldi. 
But he was not the least incredulous. If the captured ship 
had fallen again to Barbarossa, it was inconceivable that 
Montaldi should not have heard of it; inconceivable that 
Barbarossa should not think of its crew as worth some- 
thing in a bargain for Dragut. They might have been 
killed perhaps. Or perhaps the battered carrack had been 
sunk in storm or fight. It was plain that Montaldi knew 
nothing. 

He chattered nervously again. 

“ There are ten thousand slaves and more in the galleys 
at Algiers. Maybe there is a man of yours among them. 
How can I tell? How can I find them? But Dragut Reis 
is no common seaman. You cannot think to keep him 
captive. You — " 

“I think you be no judge what I can think," Dick 
chuckled. “If you’re in so vast a hurry, send me to Bar- 
baross^, Let me find my men out of his bagnios and bring 


THE MAN ON THE CARRACK 221 


them safe away, and he may have Dragut for two thousand 
ducats.” 

“You — you would go to Barbarossa — to Algiers?” 
Montaldi stared. 

Dick grinned. 

“ D'ye think I’ll be safe enough while my fellows have 
Dragut here? If he be worth two thousand ducats, he is 
worth a ducat and a half more than me alive or dead.” 

Montaldi’s mind was overwhelmed. Feebly he began 
again at the beginning and repeated himself at length. 
They came back to the same conclusion. Dick would agree 
to nothing but that he should go to Algiers and bargain with 
Barbarossa himself. Montaldi was annoyed with him — 
visibly suspected him of some secret purpose, the hope of 
some secret profit, and tried all weapons, from menace to 
mockery, to prevent him. 

His horror, his alarm, were to Dick’s mind excessive. 
For a man to go among the Moors on some business of ran- 
som was no miracle. Why should Montaldi make such 
trouble about it ? He was certainly in a rare hurry to have 
Dragut free, and for Dick to go to Algiers must mean delay. 
But there seemed to be something else that irked him. He 
suspected Dick of something. For some reason he wanted 
to keep Dick away from Algiers. Dick was the more 
resolute to go. Montaldi yielded with a bad grace. He 
did not dare to refuse the only way to Dragut’s freedom, 
but could not conceal that he feared it. 

Montaldi protested that he could give no safe conduct — 
that Barbarossa was more likely to have Dick cut asunder 
than bargain with him; and Dick answered that unless he 
came safe back from Algiers Dragut Reis would never see 
Algiers again. Montaldi declared that he knew no way of 
getting passage to Algiers, and Dick grinned and advised 
him to find one. 


CHAPTER XXII 


BARBAROSSA 

With prisoners always to be bought and sold, there was 
a steady clandestine traffic between Genoa and Algiers. 
Montaldi knew that, of course, and knew that Dick knew 
it. His hesitations and his protests only lasted long enough 
for him to think the business over and confer with some- 
body else. He went ashore grumbling and whining of im- 
possibilities and that night Dick had a letter from him 
promising to do the impossible. In the morning Dick was 
put aboard a felucca, which called itself a fishing boat, and 
owned a crew whose race was a mystery. It sighted more 
than one galley which let it pass unchallenged, and it brought 
Dick safe into the harbour of Algiers. The crew, who 
had been surly, became truculent then. They landed him, 
guarded as if he had been a prisoner, and marched him like 
a prisoner past the forts and the bagnios and through the 
narrow white streets to the castle on the hillside where 
Barbarossa held his court. There were half a score of 
them armed about him from the moment he landed till he 
was given over to a captain of Barbarossa’s guard. But 
for all their care and their haste he had seen that the har- 
bour was full of galleys, the town of soldiery. It was con- 
firmed that Barbarossa had some great scheme in hand. 

His letter of credence was taken from him, he was led to 
a guardroom and searched for weapons. Then: 

‘‘ You be feeling timid, seemly,’’ he grinned. 

‘‘ The last Christian who came on an errand to Barbarossa 
we flung to the hooks,” quoth the captain. 

“ Why, did he dare laugh at you ? ” 

2'22 


BARBAROSSA 


223 


‘‘ Wait your turn/' said the captain carelessly. 

There was not long to wait. With two men on either 
side, and two behind, he was led across a garden, rich but 
unkempt, down a marble arcade elaborate and half-built, 
and into the presence of Barbarossa. 

Kheyr-ed-Din Barbarossa had been a fine figure of a man, 
but he was shrunken and enfeebled. He lounged upon a 
heap of cushions, all in white from turban to shoe. A lean 
hand fretted at his girdle. The beard that hid most of his 
face was red no more, but tawny-grey and white. His 
right hand moved about his mouth in the manner of weak- 
ening age. 

Dick nodded at him cheerily: 

“God bless you! How’s all with you?” 

Barbarossa stared; the fidgety hands fell still. He was 
like an animal waiting to spring. He flung an order at 
Dick’s guards, and they fell back and away. The huge 
negro at Barbarossa’s side, all but naked, with scimitar un- 
sheathed in his hand, stayed where he stood. Barbarossa 
beckoned Dick nearer. 

“What do you want of me — Christian?” he said in a 
cold, sneering voice. 

Dick shrugged. 

“ Naught to keep you awake o’ nights.” 

“If you palter with me I will have you cast upon the 
hooks.” 

There was no sound but the laughter of a fountain and 
the negro’s heavy breathing. 

Dick made a gesture of impatience. 

“ Oh, you talk like an old woman frightening children.” 

The old man quivered a little. 

“ Would you yelp at me, dog?” he muttered. 

Dick began to laugh. He had never, I take it, much ap- 
petite for the terrific; and this old man was too absurdly 
like an angry cat. 

The old man stammered something. His eyes were dim 


224 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


and bloodshot. He made signs in the air. The negro 
started forward, heaving up his scimitar. Dick sprang on 
him. For a while they swayed together, straining, stamp- 
ing, panting. Barbarossa cried out, and the negro let his 
scimitar fall and hurled himself free. Dick put a foot on 
the scimitar and stood dishevelled and panting. 

“ That was not ill-done,’’ said Barbarossa quietly. “ You 
are English, they say? ” Dick nodded. They are strong 
cattle, the English, but only cattle for what I know. You 
are the captain of that square-rigged ship which hunts my 
galleys? She sails well. You fight her well. You have 
taken many of my galleys, I think?” Dick laughed. 
“ One off Tangier last summer. That was the first. Two 
by Bizerta in the autumn. One out of Tunis at sea, and one 
off Matapan. She was rich.” 

Dick laughed again. 

“ And a carrack on the high seas. She had Dragut.” 

Barbarossa showed no sign of anger. 

“ You have done well,” he said quietly. You may do 
far better.” Something of a smile flashed for a moment 
in the fierce eyes. ‘‘You are as good a Christian as the 
rest, Englishman? It would cost you nothing to spit on 
the cross ? ” 

“ What’s your will? ” said Dick lazily. 

“If you were a captain of mine you could count your 
gains ten times over. Bring your ship, and I will give you 
another such and ten galleys under your flag, and the half 
of all they win you. And if you be what I think you, I 
will make you such another as Dragut.” 

“ We’re not talking business,” said Dick. 

Barbarossa raised himself a little on the cushions. 

“You mock at me, Englishman?” Dick nodded gen- 
ially. “ I tell you, you may be rich and powerful as one of 
your Christian kings.” 

“ And live like a hog in a sty. I’ve a home in England.” 

Barbarossa laughed. 


BARBAROSSA 


225 


‘‘ Dog, what is home? I was born to a home in a sea- 
man’s cottage. Home is where you have power and pleas- 
ure.” 

You’re a poor heathen,” said Dick. 

Barbarossa looked over his shoulder. The negro flung 
himself upon Dicl^ Barbarossa cried out, and all the sol- 
diers came running. 

“ Have him flogged,” he said coldly. 

‘‘ It don’t help you to Dragut,” Dick laughed as he was 
haled out. 

If he had been a man of heroic pride doubtless he would 
have made a desperate fight of it — chosen death rather than 
the ignominy of a beating. This does not seem to have 
occurred to him. He gave them, I infer, little trouble. He 
seems to have been surprised by the weakness of the men 
with the rods. Or he pretends so. But he speaks bitterly 
of the prison into which he was flung afterwards — a cell 
no bigger than a coffin, and of horrible fetor. Perhaps 
you expect him to have been regretting that he was ever 
such a fool as to come to Algiers. I do not find that he 
ever confessed to this. 

Some time in the next day — he had been left without 
food or drink — he was haled out and brought again to 
Barbarossa. It was the same scene. The old man lay still 
on his cushions as if he had not moved. He showed some 
grim amusement at Dick’s dirt and disarray. 

“ Have you come to your senses, Englishman ? ” 

I have never lost them. Nor my temper neither.” 

Barbarossa waited a moment. 

‘‘ The last messenger I flogged had his will of them that 
flogged him the day after.” He paused. ‘‘ The one be- 
fore, I watched as he was sawn asunder.” Dick said noth- 
ing. “ I wonder which way you choose.” 

“ I wonder how all this tomfooling is going to help you 
to Dragut.” 

“ What do I care for Dragut ? ” 


226 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ To be sure, you know best,^’ Dick laughed. 

“Will you take service with me?’’ 

“If I be not back in Genoa in two weeks Dragut is 
dead.” 

“If you will not take service with me, you will never see 
Genoa again. That is how much I care for Dragut.” 

Dick began to laugh. 

“ You fool, do you think my fellows are to kill him 
quietly? If I be not back they put him to torture.” 

Barbarossa stirred on his cushions. 

“Torture?” he repeated, and Dick marked a change in 
his voice. “ I also can use torture, Englishman.” 

“To be sure. And what can I tell if you do? But 
Dragut Reis could tell a deal about you. They would be 
glad to hear all your plans, the Genoese.” 

“ You are a fool,” said Barbarossa in a low voice. 

Dick laughed. 

“ Did you think me such a fool as to come here without 
a sure hold on you ? ” 

“ What is your malice against me?” 

“ God bless you, none ! I want naught but your ducats. 
Three thousand for Dragut and any men of mine you have 
in the bagnios.” 

“ I have no man of yours. You are a fool.” Dick 
stared at him. He was plainly honest enough. So the 
boatswain and his crew had not been taken. They were 
not in the game. “You are a fool,” Barbarossa repeated. 
He seemed distressed as for a friend who would not hear 
reason. “ Join with me and you may be great as any man 
I have. Who knows — you might be my heir. I have not 
seen a man in many years who — ” 

There was something so melancholy about him that Dick 
had to laugh again. 

Barbarossa fell back on his cushions. 

“ Go your way, dog. We will hunt you down, my wolves 
and I. I promise myself your flaying.” 


BARBAROSSA 


227 


“ I thought you would bleed,” said Dick with a grin. 

“ They shall pay you in Genoa,” Barbarossa said, and 
Dick saw his broken yellow teeth. They shall pay you 
in Genoa.” 

So that day the felucca sailed again. For once Dick 
seems to have been bewildered. The swift dismissal after 
all the queer delay startled him. The whole affair was fan- 
tastic, unreal, like a dream or a ballad. To Dick’s cold, 
practical, northern mind the antics of Barbarossa were in- 
human. For a little while, it seems, he began to fear that 
he was fighting against a creature incalculable. But it was 
not in him to be afraid long. He began to count up profit 
and loss. He had done his duty by the boatswain, Nick 
Antony. But Antony was lost after all. It was some con- 
solation, doubtless, to have put a thousand ducats more on 
the price of Dragut. Yet I think that Dick was less pleased 
with himself than usual. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE GREAT RAID 

The felucca made a good run. Before sunset on the 
fifth day they saw the Alps again. By night they came into 
Genoa harbour, and Dick was set ashore. In the early 
morning he was rowed out to the Reckoning, and there, ly- 
ing astern of her, he saw the captured carrack, and laughed 
and swore and laughed. The affair was mocking at him, 
designed by Providence to display him a fool. Doubtless 
he would shortly find Barbarossa’s armada marshalled to 
go and catch tunnies. He swore considerably. 

The boatswain was hailed and came aboard to breakfast. 
He did not seem to find himself surprising or ridiculous. 
He greeted Dick coldly and with some contempt. 

Well, I never thought to see you again. Going mare’s- 
nesting among the heathen ! ” 

Nor I you, Nick.” 

The boatswain spat. 

“ More fool you ! ” quoth he. ‘‘ And to go off to Al- 
giers now! There’s foolishness. To throw a young head 
after grey hairs. Oh, ’tis wicked!” 

He was with some difficulty persuaded to tell his tale, 
which was very long and very technical, but may be here 
brief. The carrack had lost her foremast in the storm, 
could not keep her course, had run before the wind, and 
hardly made Malta. There they found her in parlous case, 
and only after much labour patched her up to venture the 
voyage to Genoa. 

His tale was hardly told before Montaldi was announced. 
He was transfigured. He revealed himself effusively genial. 

2^28 


THE GREAT RAID 


229 


He spluttered congratulations and flattery. He was hardly 
to be diverted to business, and when he came to business 
was merely anxious to pay. There was to be no haggling, 
no difficulty. He heard that Barbarossa desired only to be 
the best of friends with Dick. He had the three thousand 
ducats with him. 

There was nothing for it but to finish the affair. The 
money was paid. Dragut was conducted with ceremony to 
the boat. Even he seemed to have imbibed some joviality. 
He went over the side with a bow and a laugh, and '‘To 
our next meeting.” 

Montaldi lingered with more smooth words. He hoped 
to do more good business with Dick. He hoped they might 
be friends. He coveted a better acquaintance. He begged 
that Dick would sup with him. And Dick agreed, and all 
smiles he departed. 

" Why's there so much oil to him ? ” cjuoth the boatswain. 

Dick chuckled. 

" I’ll tell you after supper.” 

All that day he was busy rummaging the carrack, but 
there he found nothing to interest or enlighten him. She 
had among her charts, which were scanty, a map of the 
Italian seaboard from Naples to Leghorn drawn in great 
detail. That surprised him a little, but he could not think 
it significant of anything. He went pensively to Montaldi’s 
supper. 

The one thing important about that was Montaldi’s eager- 
ness to make him come. Many explanations were pos- 
sible. Montaldi might have orders from Barbarossa that 
persuasion and blandishment should be used to win him 
over. That was the least likely. Montaldi might have 
orders for kidnapping. That was possible. So Dick had 
a party of his men surround the house at a little distance. 
Montaldi might have orders for poison. That was most 
likely of all. Barbarossa was not likely to forgo re- 
venge, or, once he had Dragut safe, put it off. And it was 


230 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

an age which, for business and pleasure both, used poison 
freely. 

Dick entered the too hospitable house with a languid air, 
and when Montaldi rushed upon him, apologised for ill- 
health, feared to be bad company, but had not liked to 
break his promise. Montaldi was altogether correct; re- 
gretted, sympathised, thanked and applauded him for 
coming, and solicitous for his comfort. Dick was con- 
ducted into a little gorgeous room glittering with crystal 
and gold, fragrant of flowers and rare fruits. A servant 
bowed them to table and glided out. Then Dick sat down 
heavily and appeared to suffer. 

“ Give me leave,’’ he groaned. “ I doubt I can eat noth- 
ing. I was in the wrong to come.” 

Montaldi was properly startled ; condoled, remonstrated, 
offered delicacies, and vaunted them innocent enough for 
a baby. But Dick would have nothing, not even wine, 
begged Montaldi not to talk of it, for the very thought was 
painful, but go on with his own supper. 

‘‘ In charity, let’s talk of something not food,” and with 
the nervous haste of a man ill at ease within Dick began 
to talk of Barbarossa. 

It was at this point that Montaldi’s behaviour began to 
be strange. He might well have packed Dick off to his 
ship; he might have complained of his coming in such a 
state; he might have been angry at such disgust for his 
fare. But it was not natural that he should sit down to 
eat, and eat nervously, and drink deep, and in the midst of 
uneasy answers still press wine on his unpleasant guest. 
After a while he sprang up. 

I have it! Ah, fool that I was not to think of it be- 
fore! I have a wine from Vesuvius — a very nectar, a 
cordial of the rarest.” He bustled to the sideboard. There 
were, you remember, no servants in the room. 

Dick protested feebly, languidly* But Montaldi, busy 
with the wine and glasses, chattered on. He was busy a 


THE GREAT RAID 


231 

long time. He came back with one glass brimming, and 
pressed it into Dick’s hand. 

‘‘ Nay, I will not be denied. I protest, it is the very 
elixir of life. Drink it off, my friend, and you will be your 
own man again. As hungry as I. Come, pledge me ! ” 

Dick took the glass, laughing weakly. 

“ Well, do me reason,” he said. 

“ With good will,” cried Montaldi, and went back for the 
bottle and filled another glass. 

Dick rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched forward. 
Then his hand fell on Montaldi’s shoulder. He put his 
glass down on the window-sill. 

‘‘ Change glasses,” he said sharply. 

Montaldi trembled under his hand. Montaldi’s face was 
white, and he stammered something. 

Dick thrust him away and pushed the window open, and 
shouted to his men waiting outside : 

‘‘ Call the watch ! ” 

“ You are mad! ” Montaldi cried, and his teeth chattered. 

Dick laughed and shifted his chair, and sat down in front 
of his glass and the window. 

“You have tried to poison me, my lad, and the watch 
is coming. I shall give them that glass of poisoned wine 
and tell them that you gave it me because you are hired by 
the King of Algiers and a traitor to Genoa. Or else — or 
else you will tell me for what Barbarossa means his arma- 
ment, and give me all his letters to you this last two 
months.” 

“ It is a lie,” Montaldi stammered. 

“ Then drink off the wine,” Dick laughed. Montaldi 
shrank away. 

“ So. Then you can tell the watch and tell the Council 
— they love you, do they not? — who bade you poison me.” 

Montaldi rushed at him madly, was easily caught, and 
flung down on the floor. Outside in the street was the 
tramp of a march, Montaldi staggered to his feet. 


232 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ I will tell you — I will tell you/’ he cried. ‘‘ But you 
will say nothing! Swear that you will say nothing to any 
man ! ” 

“ The truth and the letters/’ Dick grinned. And he 
leaned back to the window and cried to bis men : “ Hold 

them in talk ! ” 

I will tell you,” Montaldi gasped. ‘‘ It is Julia Gon- 
zaga.” 

‘‘ The letters,” Dick said, and Montaldi rushed out. He 
came back panting with a few papers, and Dick turned them 
over and saw enough. He stood up laughing. “ And so 
good night and pleasant dreams.” 

Montaldi clung to his arm. 

‘‘ Swear you will never let Barbarossa know of this.” 

‘‘Not I,” Dick laughed. “You are too useful, my 
friend,” and out he went, and with some ducats easily per- 
suaded the watch that his men had mistaken him when he 
merely bade them to be on the look-out for him. 

All the mystery was plain enough at last, plain as you 
may read it in solemn historical prose. Julia Gonzaga, the 
widowed Duchess of Trajetto, was famed to half the world 
as the most beautiful woman in it. “ Wherever her feet 
may tread,” so they put it coldly in her own time, “ what- 
ever her eyes may behold, she yields to none other in 
loveliness, but as though she descended from heaven is 
proclaimed with rapture a goddess.” Kheyr-ed-Din 
Barbarossa desired to commend himself to the Sultan Soli- 
man, who had just made him Admiral, by capturing her 
for the Sultan’s harem — a delectable conquest, a magnifi- 
cent insult to all Christendom. For her the carrack had 
been destined. For the raid to capture her, Dragut Reis, 
Barbarossa’s best captain, was needed. For her the ar- 
mada was gathered. 

She made her home at Fundi, near the coast of Gaeta. 
The plan of the raid was clear in the letters to Montaldi, 
but without the letters Dick could have guessed it once he 


THE GREAT RAID 


233 


knew the object. The armada would pounce upon Gaeta 
and seize harbour and town. The two thousand men, with 
Dragut to lead, were to march on the castle of Fundi. 

Before dawn the Reckoning had put to sea. Dick counted 
that he had more than time enough to reach Gaeta and warn 
the Duchess of her danger, and let her call the countryside 
to arms or fly. He was wrong. The winds were contrary. 
They served Barbarossa. And Barbarossa had lost no time. 
His armada had waited Dragut off Naples. As the Reck- 
oning steered in towards the low coast of the Pontine 
Marshes her look-out saw a fleet on the horizon. Dick 
cursed all earth and heaven. There were, I suppose, not 
many things in his life which he desired so much as triumph 
over Barbarossa. That flogging rankled more than he ad- 
mits. 

He had something to fear. The pirate fleet might snap 
him up if he did not turn and run. He had little to hope. 
The pirates were already close upon Gaeta already anchor- 
ing by Sperlonga, and it was idle to think that they might 
be beaten off. He swore, it seems, like a madman, but his 
head was clear enough and his will resolute. The armada 
was not likely to concern itself with one lonely ship. There 
was still a chance that he might get to Fundi first. He al- 
tered course for the little harbour of Terracina. Then the 
wind failed. 

Just at dark a boat of wearied men landed him on the 
strand to south of Terracina, and he bought a horse at an 
inn and was shown his track and galloped by woodland and 
tilth through the grey first of the night. He found the 
servants at Fundi out watching firelight in the sky to south- 
ward. They ran upon this wild sudden horseman with de- 
light and a patter of questions. They had heard cannon 
at sunset. Now the horizon was red. What news could 
be had of these joyous wonders? 

With a word of the truth he set them shrieking and like 
sheep they ran. It was beyond him to stop them, to wring 


234 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


anything useful out of them. They were in panic, and, 
poor souls, since nine in ten of them were women, they had 
good cause enough. 

With the rout, Dick rushed into the palace and for a 
while, raging, could find none who would tell him of the 
Duchess. Each of the frantic household thought only of 
flight or could not think at all. They broke from him or 
fought with him when he tried to stay them and at last he 
gave them up and stormed through the dark galleries alone 
roaring her name and varied oaths and her name. 

A woman ran upon him. He gripped at naked neck of 
shoulder and rated her and shook her and cursed her because 
she had not brought her mistress, because she did not rush 
instantly and fetch her mistress: and she gasped out that 
she was the Duchess’s self. Without a word more he haled 
her along to the stair head where candles burnt and gut- 
tered and by their light he looked her over. 

There was no more than a night gown of white silk about 
her. She was so finely fashioned that she must needs be 
the loveliest woman, why, the only woman in the world. 
And in her fear (so the man writes) she had the more 
grace. 

Ay, ye’re worth a day’s work,” he chuckled. “ So you 
be Madame Julia?” He knew well enough. There was 
the famed high forehead of alabaster, the dark eyebrows, 
the torrent of golden curls. 

“ The Blessed Virgin help me ! ” she moaned. 

“ Humph. There’s little of her in my doublet,” quoth 
Dick and flung Madame Julia over his shoulder and ran 
on down the stair. 

In the next corridor he set her down and finding some 
medley of silks and tapestries on the floor wrapped her up 
in a bundle from which only the top of her head appeared. 
“You’ll be cold enough before you’re in a Christian bed 
again,” he said and broke a window with his shoulder and 
swung her out of it to the courtyard. There he fought 


THE GREAT RAID 


235 


three men for a mule and won and tied her across the 
breast with strips of an abandoned petticoat and so broke 
away with his booty. The press of panic made for the 
wooded slopes of Monte Passignano. Dick struck across 
the lowland for the sea. He heard the roar of the Moorish 
onset. He saw the flames of the palace stream out against 
the sky. 

As dawn broke over the strand by Terracina a shivering, 
sobbing woman was tossed into a boat. When she said 
anything that was articulate and not a prayer, it was to 
promise impossible wealth if only they would let her go. 
Thirty hours after, as the Reckoning ran northward through 
the sunshine, a woman piquantly beautiful in doublet and 
hose laughed the story down the wind. 

“And I was to be the Grand Turk’s chief wife! Ah, 
signor, never, never may I forgive you.” 

“ Ay, you’re a mettlesome piece ! ” Dick regarded her with 
grim amusement. “ Or you think you be. But I wonder.” 

“ I wonder 1 ” she echoed and sighed and smiled. “ And 
you my knight errant, my deliverer, what called you to put 
your breast as a shield for my poor honour ? ” 

“To be sure, it should have been your pretty, pale face,” 
Dick grinned at her. “ Then they could make a sweet bal- 
lad of you and me.” 

“ You are a wild fairy tale fellow,” she said with a glance 
half mocking, half invitation. 

“God bless you, not I,” said Dick heartily. “Truth 
it is ’twas not your white and red brought me but old Bar- 
barossa’s shaggy jowl. I owed him a thrust in the short 
ribs.” 

After that the Lady Julia was less free with him. But 
she took pains to have him paid for her lavishly. Which 
was doubtless what he had wished to secure. 

When Dick came back to Genoa from the next cruise he 
heard that the Signor Montaldi had been stabbed in the 
streets. And none knew the murderer. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE GIRL IN THE BOAT 

It was a night of spring. Violet sea and a violet sky 
made up the world. The stars glowed mellow and near. 
The south wind was a wild harmony of speed and force and 
genial heat. Captain Rymingtowne, who had in himself 
enough of these things, nevertheless opened his mouth to 
it, and his shoulders went back and his expansive chest 
dilated, and he loosed his doublet at the neck, and it seemed 
to him that the lanterns of his ship burnt with a flame of 
ruddy gold. Down in the waist his crew was noisy in a 
glee : 

For my pastime, upon a day, 

I walked alone right secretly 
In a morning of lusty May ; 

Me to rejoice I did apply. 

Cull to me the rushes green ! 

Captain Rymingtowne swore to himself tenderly. He 
also had music in his soul. 

By good fortune there were men upon the Reckoning less 
in sympathy with the universe. One shouted from the fore- 
castle in a hurry, and the gunner, whose watch it was, 
snapped an order, and the helm went over and the sails 
flapped, and the gunner — a dry man — said what he 
thought. 

Captain Rymingtowne came lazily across to port and 
looked over the side. Sliding slowly past — for the Reck- 
oning still had some way on her — close in the troubled, 
foaming water was a frail boat. Her lugsail was fluttering 
all aboard like a flag, and she staggered and reeled with no 

^36 


THE GIRL IN THE BOAT 


237 


hand on her helm. A clear voice cried from her in Span- 
ish. A woman’s shape stood in her, swaying. Captain 
Rymingtowne saw a white face. 

‘‘ Right under our bows, look you,” said the gunner with 
a recondite oath. ‘‘ That’s like a woman. That’s life, 
that is. Then she quits the tiller, being feared of her fool- 
ishness which is bigger foolishness, and so more like a 
woman. And then, what’s most like a woman, she curses 
we.” 

“ She is praying us take her aboard,” said Captain Rym- 
ingtowne. 

‘‘ ’Tis the same thing, do you see,” said the gunner. 

“ Call a boat away,” said Captain Rymingtowne. 

God help you ! ” said the gunner, and shouted. 

The vagabond boat had drifted astern. The woman was 
still to be seen erect, stretching out suppliant hands. Her 
voice came passionate, but still comely. Whistles and the 
scurry of feet and the shriek of tackle quenched the music 
on the Reckoning, and in a moment a boat shot out from 
her side. As it came to her the woman flung herself into 
it. Neither companion nor cargo followed her, and her 
boat was left drifting. Soon the davits shrieked again and 
the Reckoning began to go through the water, and another 
glee rang out. 

Captain Rymingtowne lounged across the poop to wel- 
come his guest. She came up the stairway from the waist 
leaning on a seaman’s arm, and laughed as she came. Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne waited for her to come into the lantern 
light. She was then seen to be tall and of a rich form. A 
shawl was over her head, and in its shadow her face might 
have been young or old. Her dress was of some dark 
stuff and simple, neither rich nor poor. The hand that 
gathered the shawl on her bosom was white and innocent 
of work. 

‘‘ Give you joy of your salvation,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne in Spanish. 


238 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ You are no Spaniard/' she said, and her voice was 
young. 

‘‘ Give me joy of that." 

“ It is your misfortune," she laughed. ‘‘ But certainly 
not mine. What are you ? " 

‘‘Your owner, thank you. And what are you worth in 
Spain?" 

She hesitated, and then cried out : 

“ Nothing, nothing," and laughed with a girl's bitterness. 
“ But out of Spain I can be a woman." 

“ Out of the frying-pan," quoth Captain Rymingtowne, 
“ into the fire." 

“ And you — what are ypu? " 

“A man, my girl; which is mighty bad for you. And 
English; which is no good to you." 

“ English? " she repeated with some awe or doubt. After 
a moment she seemed to receive new light, and thanked the 
Virgin, and said plaintively: “ You will save me? I have 
fled from Spain to escape the Holy Inquisition." 

Captain Rymingtowne whistled. It was a big affair to 
take sides against the Holy Office. He would be counted 
an enemy in all the ports of Spain. And he was not ready. 

“ I never had a liking for martyrs," said he. “ And 
you — you'll not make much at the trade, my girl. What 
set you playing with religions ? " 

“ Oh — oh, all the priests hate me," she said nervously. 
“ It is not my fault. Oh, give me help ! I am all alone, 
and I am so weary, and — and I am hurt. See ! " 

She held out most miserably a delicate hand. Chafing of 
rope or timber had broken half an inch of skin on the 
palm. 

“ God save you, there’s a wound indeed ! " said Captain 
Rymingtowne. “You're a fine lass to go a-sailing." 

“ I can sail a boat as well as you," she cried. “ I have 
been often." 

“ With your husband ? " 


THE GIRL IN THE BOAT 


239 


“ I have no husband.” She stamped her foot. 

“ The better for him,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 
‘‘ Is there any miserable man which you belonged to ? ” 

‘‘ I am an orphan,” she cried. Then added in a breath, 
‘‘ And my name is Teresa Galindo, and I have nothing in 
the world, and, oh — and I ache everywhere. I hate you. 
Let me rest — let me rest.” She dropped gracefully. 

“ I doubt if you are good for aught else,” said Captain 
Rymingtowne, and waved her off and ordered a cabin for 
her, and turned on his heel. 

I do not suppose she troubled his dreams. She was a 
handsome creature, and by such he was as amused as the 
rest of men. He judged her also silly and vaporous, and 
for such he had no taste. In the minute between lying down 
and sleep he had resolved to put her ashore at Tarragona and 
let the Holy Office fight it out with her. He foresaw no 
tragedy. 

He was waked by the sound of firing. He came on deck 
in a cloak before the end of a minute. It was a little after 
dawn. The low coast of Spain loomed dim, and beyond it 
the mountain peaks were golden against the sun. Between 
the Reckoning and the land a high-charged ship was plung- 
ing under full sail. 

“ Fired across our bows, he did,” the boatswain grumbled 
resentful amazement. 

‘‘ Well, be civil. Fire across his,” said Dick, and stared 
while the cloak slapped at his bare legs. The stranger flew 
the yellow flag of Spain. A puff of smoke came from his 
main deck, again the roar of a gun, and the ball plunged 
into the waves a few fathoms ahead of the Reckoning. 
Dick swore encouragement at the captain of his carronade, 
and turned away fighting the impertinences of his cloak. 
The gun was fired, and as the spray rose from the ricochet 
it was plain that the Spaniard’s bow had narrowly escaped. 
His indignant surprise was revealed in the agitation of his 
crew, who appeared to struggle with diverse orders. 


240 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Captain Rymingtowne slid below for his breeches. He 
was, I conceive, annoyed. 

A laughing face peeped at him from behind a door. 

‘‘What is it? Are you fighting? ” Teresa cried gaily. 

Dick Rymingtowne said something rude. 

He was quickly dressed and on deck again. But there 
had been no more firing, and the boatswain rolled up to 
him with : 

“ They’m making signals. Wishful to speak.'’ 

“ Well, I’ve a mind to say things,” said Dick as they 
backed the mainsail. 

It became apparent that the Spaniard expected them to 
send a boat humbly for his commands. Then Dick ran 
down and hailed him with brief profanity, desiring him to 
come aboard swiftly or go whither he was bound — a place 
of ill repute on earth. Whereat the Spaniard laboriously 
lowered a great barge of a boat. A long and splendid man 
in a cuirass descended into her solemnly. Slowly and un- 
handily she was brought alongside the Reckoning, which 
flung her ropes and a rope ladder. The splendid person in 
the cuirass, whose own ship had let down a gangway for 
him, shouted protest at this ignoble provision, and was 
again answered briefly. Then he sent two of his crew up 
the ladder, who held the top of it, while clumsily and peril- 
ously he followed. He was red and panting when he ar- 
rived. His dark beard bristled rage. He had tar on his 
gloves and his green velvet trunk hose, and he tried to 
brush it off, and swore. 

Captain Rymingtowne lounged up to him unamiably, and 
grunted : 

“ You’ll need tallow to that.” 

The Spaniard took a pace back and seemed to lose his 
breath, and cried out; 

“ Your name, fellow ! ” 

“And who the fiend are you?” said Captain Ryming- 
towne. 


THE GIRL IN THE BOAT 


241 


‘‘ I am Don Alonzo Girono, and I command His Most 
Catholic Majesty’s ship the Santa Maria Magdalena. You 
have fired on her, sir. You fired on the flag of Spain.” 

“ Well, you asked for it. And I am a polite man. But 
you would not understand that. I am Captain Richard 
Rymingtowne, and that — that’s the Queen of England’s 
flag.” 

I signalled you to heave to, sir.” 

‘‘ God bless your impudence.” 

“ I’ll have you answer for this language ! ” 

Oh, I am good at an answer, my lad ! ” 

“ I tell you, I desire to know your business on this 
coast.” 

Dick swore at him. 

“ You signal me to heave to! You fire across my bows! 
You desire to know my business! Now confound your 
eyes again ! You are no better than a Barbary pirate ! ” 

The Spaniard was plainly at a loss. 

Insolence shall not serve you, sir,” he stammered. ‘‘ Be 
sure I shall find a way to make you speak. I desire to know 
your business.” 

Dick laughed at him. 

“ I desire to know if you have seized any craft, any sub- 
ject of the King of Spain.” 

‘‘ Oh, go away and burst ! ” said Captain Rymingtowne. 
“ D’ye take me for a pirate like yourself? ” 

There was such honesty in his irritation that the Span- 
iard frowned, bewilderment struggling in him with rage. 

‘‘ Answer me, sir. Did you sight any boat out of Va- 
lencia last night? Did you see any, I say? ” 

“ God help you, I think you are seeing bogies,” said Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne. ‘‘ But this is no madhouse. Get over 
the side.” 

“ Do you deny it, sir?” the Spaniard cried. 

Captain Rymingtowne turned on his heel. 

“ He’ll not go without his tallow, Nick,” he said in Eng- 


242 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

lish. “ Give him a lump and his riddance, i’ God’s 
name.” 

“ I warn you you shall answer for this, sir,” the Spaniard 
cried after him. 

Captain Rymingtowne lounged away. 

The Spaniard hesitated, threatened again, took a step 
after him, and thought better of it. As he approached the 
side, one of the ship's boys thrust upon his tarry gloves a 
shapeless piece of tallow. He flung it down, he swore 
shrilly, and so vanished. 

His boat was hardly cast off before the Reckoning began 
to move, and sailed away on her old course. Don Alonzo 
was plainly annoyed. Before he came near his ship he was 
vociferating orders. He went up her side in a hurry, and 
on deck and aloft there was great business. The Santa 
Maria Magdalena stood after the Reckoning under a press 
of sail. And Dick went down to breakfast. 

It is probable that you think him very rash all on a sud- 
den. To make a quarrel with Spain and her navy about 
nothing is quite unlike him. You cannot suppose that he 
would risk a penny for the beautiful eyes of Teresa. Why 
did he not give her up and have done with her ? I suppose 
he would not have thought of anything else if Don Alonzo 
had not made a fool of himself. But the folly of Don 
Alonzo was what no foreign sea captain would have endured, 
and especially that least humble of sea captains, Dick Rym- 
ingtowne. Moreover, it could not, even in that turbulent 
age, be upheld. The haughtiest admiral of Spain must 
judge the Spaniard wrong. Therefore Dick gave his nat- 
ural insolence its head. 

But, of course, it was not master of him. In cursing 
and jeering at Don Alonzo he was well aware that there 
must be some reason in that man. The very wildness of his 
folly proved that it must be some potent cause which agi- 
tated him. A Spanish captain would not come firing on 


THE GIRL IN THE BOAT 


243 


a blameless ship and rant about missing craft and Spanish 
subjects to its captain unless something of importance had 
been lost. Was it possible that the silly vaporous Teresa 
had importance? If so, she was worth keeping. Dick felt 
a great appetite for breakfast. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE ETIQUETTE OF THE PROFESSION 

By the table, unbidden, sat Teresa. She laughed; she 
started up and made him a curtsey which amazed him. 

“ My homage, sir captain,’’ she said. “ You are the 
mightiest liar ever I saw.” 

‘‘Was there no glass in your cabin?” Dick drawled. 

No amusement appeared in his heavy face. He was re- 
flecting that she had no business to be at his table, that she 
had no business to overhear his skirmish with Don Alonzo, 
no business to joke about it — unless she were something 
different from the silly, feckless creature of last night. 

To be sure, she was something different. Her tall, full 
form had a quick life in it that startled his well-controlled 
pulses. There was a mocking combatant light in her eyes. 
She was vivid and challenging. 

“ What surprised me was to hear you so brave,” she said 
demurely. 

Dick waved her to a chair. 

“ The men are cowards where you come from,” said he. 
“ For instance, you have no husband.” 

“ Does any one tell the truth on your ship ? ” she mur- 
mured. 

Dick poured her out wine and cut her salt beef. 

“ You’ll have time enough to find out.” 

“ You will keep me? ” she cried eagerly. “ Perhaps you 
will be that husband I so much desire.” 

“What is your dower?” said Captain Rymingtowne. 

She tapped her bosom and made him a little bow across 
the table. 


244 


ETIQUETTE OF THE PROFESSION 245 

“ Myself is my fortune, my lord.” 

“ ril take care ’tis not my misfortune, my dear.” 

She laughed. 

'‘You shine, sir; but you do not gain by it, I think.” 

" Did any man ever gain by you ? ” Dick drawled, but 
his eyes were keen. “ I’ll live and you’ll learn, my girl.” 

"What would you give to know all about me?” she 
cried. 

" I do, God bless you.” Dick shrugged. 

" You are wise, sir.” 

" I know you are a woman who knows she is pretty ; 
that’s one who’ll tell me the rest of herself for the asking.” 

She made him a grimace: 

" You rate me low.” 

" Why not ? ” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

" Then, why not give me up to Don Alonzo? ” she cried. 
" Oh, if I am but a popinjay, why should you keep me, sir ? ” 

" He made no bid.” 

" Bid?” 

" Why, you will fetch a price yet.” He looked her over 
critically. "To be sure you be too fat for my liking. But 
some poor fool must want you sore, or why would Alonzo 
come banging after you to tar himself?” 

"You are base, and an animal! ” she cried. 

Captain Rymingtowne laughed at her red face, and left 
her and went on deck to see how Don Alonzo’s ship was do- 
ing. He did not come down again. 

The Santa Maria Magdalena, carrying more sail than was 
good for her, had drawn a little ahead of the Reckoning. 
Captain Rymingtowne had no objection to that. But she 
was making signals, and beating up to meet her came half 
a dozen bigger ships. They, too, bore the golden flag of 
Spain. To that Captain Rymingtowne objected much; he 
whistled and — 

" Go turn the key on madame,” said he. 

But he did nothing else. He did not alter his course one 


246 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


point. He did not set an inch more sail. In the wake of 
the Santa Maria Magdalena he came down upon the Span- 
ish fleet. That Don Alonzo’s signals were proclaiming his 
wrongs and urging revenge Dick had no sort of doubt. 
But you will not suspect him of the intention to fight seven 
ships of war. He behaved as if he had nothing to fear, 
because conscious virtue was plainly the safest part to play. 
You may think him not well fitted for it, but he was versa- 
tile. At least the spectacle of the Reckoning running on 
with the confidence of a blameless past into the midst of the 
Spanish fleet must needs be impressive to its admiral. 

The abundant signals from Don Alonzo were abundantly 
answered from the flagship. As soon as they were near 
enough the Santa Maria Magdalena shortened sail and low- 
ered a boat, and Don Alonzo was seen climbing the flag- 
ship’s side. By that time, of course, the Reckoning, hold- 
ing her honest way, was almost in the middle of the fleet. 
But there was no firing now. The Spanish admiral sig- 
nalled with proper decorum that he wished to speak. The 
Reckoning decorously backed her mainsail. The Spaniard 
hailed to announce that he would send a boat. The 
Reckoning lay to. The boat came, and an officer from its 
stern requested that the English captain would come aboard 
the ship of the Admiral Don Luis de Vasquez. Dick sent 
for his gloves and his blue velvet cloak, and in them went 
over the side. 

The officer of the boat received him with austere courtesy. 
The like awaited him aboard the flagship. He was con- 
ducted to the admiral’s cabin. Don Luis de Vasquez sat in 
state with Don Alonzo and another of his captains, but he 
and the cabin surprised Dick by their simplicity. Don 
Luis left velvet and silk and jewels to his captains; his 
cabin eschewed upholstery. He was a man of the middle 
size, sallow and grey, by far less imposing than the flam- 
boyant Don Alonzo or the sturdy, bluff soldier on his other 
side. But his grave eyes looked infinite experience. 


ETIQUETTE OF THE PROFESSION 247 

“ You understand Spanish? ” he said, after due bows, and 
Dick bowed again. “ You are English and command an 
English ship? ” Again Dick bowed. ‘‘ I am told that you 
fired upon a ship of His Most Catholic Majesty.” 

After she had fired twice at me. And with never a 
reason nor warning given.” 

“ I cannot allow that you were justified,” said Don Luis 
coldly. 

“Was I to let him blaze away at me as he chose? ” 

“ It would be convenient that regret should be owned for 
an unhappy mistake.” 

“ Since the gentleman was mistaken, to be sure I regret 
that I mistook him,” Dick said blandly. 

Don Luis bowed. 

“ Permit me to assure you that my captain’s duty was but 
to come to speech with you. And in no way to dishonour 
your flag.” 

“ I salute his,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ Very well. But I am told, sir, that you answered my 
captain’s questions with jeers and insolence.” 

“ How was I to answer a man which came aboard my 
ship and called me pirate? I told him he was making a 
fool of himself. And with respect to your worship, I tell 
him so again.” 

Don Alonzo exclaimed, to be cut off by his admiral with 
a curt: “You have said enough, sir.” 

Then Dick was addressed with more geniality. ■ 

“ I advise you to forget this affair, sir. I tell you frankly 
I have nothing against you. I desire your aid. The mat- 
ter is this. A lady of birth, Donna Teresa de Fazardo, the 
daughter of the Governor of Valencia, went sailing yester- 
day in a pleasure boat, and has not since been seen. What 
I ask of you is whether she or her boat has been sighted by 
your mariners ? ” 

Dick stared at him. 

“ God save you, what should I do with her ? ” 


248 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Don Luis made a gesture of impatience. 

“ I suspect you of nothing, sir 1 I — ” 

‘A am Richard Rymingtowne of the Reckoning, and no 
pirate nor kidnapper. You may hear of me in Genoa, and 
my good name and — ’’ 

“ I know your repute, sir, and have nothing against it. 
You have deserved well of Christendom.’’ They ex- 
changed bows. It is but the chance that you had sighted 
Donna Teresa’s boat?” 

Dick shook his head. 

I know naught of her,” he said stolidly. 

“ I regret to have delayed your voyage,” said the ad- 
miral, and rose. 

With elaborate courtesies Dick was conducted to the boat 
and back again to his ship. Yet I think he was not alto- 
gether at ease. Don Luis de Vasquez was one of the men 
whom he always mocked and uncomfortably admired. 

I suspect that the grave dignity of Don Luis encouraged 
Dick to cheat him. If he had been something less lofty, 
something less royal, Dick might have been ready to tell 
him the truth. But I doubt it. There was plainly nothing 
to be gained by giving the girl up. There might be some 
profit in keeping her. As for any later trouble with Spain, 
Dick had entire capacity in his ability to evade it. Also, 
whatever the truth of the odd business might be, he was 
on the girl’s side. All his life long he liked youth, and 
inclined to support it against age. He did not believe 
Teresa was telling the truth. A viceroy’s daughter would 
not be running away from the Inquisition. But she was 
certainly running away from the viceroy. Dick had no 
mind to send her back to him. And, finally, he liked sport. 

The Spanish fleet beat back to southward, and the Reck- 
oning laid her course for Marseilles. When Dick went 
down to dinner he heard a thumping at the door of Teresa’s 
cabin. He unlocked it, chuckling, and she came out with 
such enthusiasm that she fell upon his bosom. 


ETIQUETTE OF THE PEOFESSION 249 

“ Fie, fie! ” he said, “ and me always a modest man! ” 
How dare you shut me up?” she cried, thrusting him 
off violently. 

Dick shook his head over her. 

“ Your poor father,” said he. “ Twenty years of you 
and more. Maybe thirty. To be sure, I wonder ’tis not he 
which ran away.” 

She drew back against the bulkhead and stared at him 
with a frown and a smile. It happened that the expression 
made her vivid face look its best, as her pose marked the 
stately beauty of her form. 

You have a rare skill to make me angry, sir,” she said. 
‘‘ But I am gentle and will suffer you to give me dinner.” 

‘‘ The truth is,” said Dick, “ I am frightened of you. 
For you are a desperate young wornan, and I be naught 
better than a poor, shy mariner.” 

“ Indeed, you wrong us both, sir.” She sighed demurely. 
“ I pray you, let us dine. After dinner you may think bet- 
ter of yourself, if not of me.” 

’Tis that which I fear,” Dick protested, but he suffered 
her to take his arm and lead him to his cabin. 

There they were awaited by the breakfast table fare — 
salt beef and hard biscuit and thin wine. “ We live hard,” 
Dick apologised. ’Tis good for the virtues and the 
teeth.” 

“ I should have thought such dinners would have given 
you an ache in both.” 

Dick displayed apprehension. 

** But then you are such a wild piece.” 

Now why do you so miscall me ? ” she protested plain- 
tively. “ Who am as meek ” — her eyelids drooped — “ as 
meek as a nun’s lily.” 

‘‘ I put no faith in lilies.” Dick shook his head. They 
be too sweet-scented for my dizzy head.” 

‘‘ Dizzy! ” she laughed. ’Tis as hard and as cold and 
as tough as your own beef.” 


250 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Cold, quotha! ’’ Dick was reproachful. “ Cold? Who 
— I ? When you ha’ so bewitched me that I go quarrelling 
with all the armadas o’ Spain for to keep you by me.” 

She laughed merrily. 

‘‘ Oh, brave I And do I please you so well? Would you 
make me your lady, my lord ? ” 

Dick rubbed his big chin. 

‘‘ Would you have me. Grimalkin? ” 

“ Grimalkin ? ” The word puzzled her, of course. ‘‘ I 
do not understand.” 

’Tis as much as to say pussy-cat. For what am I but 
a mouse to you? ” 

She compressed her lips. She looked at him severely, 
yet with laughter in her eyes. 

“ If I am cat, it’s no mouse you are, but the dog which 
worries me.” 

'‘Who would ha’ thought it now?” Dick drawled. 
“ And me feeling so frightened all the time.” 

"Were you ever frightened in your life, sir?” 

" Ay; when I was sea-sick.” 

"And I make you feel the same?” 

" Why, d’ye see, you keep me all of a jig, and when I 
look at you I never know whether I be on my head or my 
heels.” 

"Now did you ever feel so for any woman alive?” 

Dick laughed. 

" My dear, if I did, I would never tell her so.” 

For the first time they looked at each other with frank 
affection. She spoke first. 

" Well, sir, you think much of yourself, and perhaps I 
think myself no less. Shall we call friends?” 

" But what’s a friend?” said Dick with his hand to his 
chin. 

" He tells the truth.” 

" I’ll tell you the truth about you,” Dick drawled; ** you 
are a fool for your pains.” 


ETIQUETTE OF THE PROFESSION 251 


‘‘ Is that why you like me? For I profess ’tis why I like 
you.” 

“ You should have been a man,” said Dick. 

Pshaw ! ” she said; “that is what you think of every 
woman with as much wit as yourself.” 

“Do I so?” Dick grinned. 

She clapped her hands. 

“ I knew it. There is a woman to whom you are bound. 
Now I am happy altogether.” 

For the third time Dick rubbed his chin. 

“Now what do you want of the world and me?” he 
said slowly. 

She hesitated a moment, looking at him and playing with 
her wine cup. Then : 

“Life!” she cried — “life!” 

“ Humph! ” Dick grunted. “ To a woman life means a 
husband or two.” 

“ Oh, dunce ! A husband is what I run from,” said 
she. 

“ I am learning,” Dick agreed ; “ you told me first you 
was running from the Holy Inquisition; and the admiral, 
he says it was from your father; and you say now it was 
from a husband. Are there any more after you? ” 

She laughed. 

“ How much did the admiral tell you ? ” 

“ That you was the daughter of the Viceroy of Valencia, 
and you put to sea in a cock-boat for your pleakire, and was 
lost to poor father.” 

“ Poor father! ” She tossed her head. “ Well, sir, that 
was all true. And as for the Holy Inquisition, that was 
not true at all. When I found you were an English heretic, 
I thought you would be more of a mind to save me from 
Spain and Spaniards if you thought me a heretic too.” She 
laughed. “ Now I know you, I know you would fight for 
me because I am not ill to look at. But how could I tell 
an Englishman would be a gentleman ? ” 


252 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“You, which thought all fools was Spanish! ” Dick mur- 
mured. 

“ It was my father who drove me away. I protest he is 
a vile tyrant! I am nothing to him; I have been nothing 
to him all my life, nor I nor my brothers nor sisters. He 
has known naught of us, seen naught of us. We have been 
in watch and ward of his servants; drilled by duennas and 
tutors. And he — he is too grand to deign a word for us. 
He—” 

“You’ll be doing without mothers in Spain?” 

“ I never knew my mother,” said Donna Teresa, and it 
was a moment before her wrath swept on. “ And now that 
I am a woman, now my father gives me orders that I am 
to marry a boy whom I have never seen and at once, so 
please you, on Corpus Christi Day. Ay, though I may 
loathe the creature, even as he stands at the altar! Then 
I told my father I would not ; then I flung his words back 
at him. And he — I hate his narrow face ! — he was not 
so much as angry. He said but ‘ It is arranged. You will 
marry Don Diego, Teresa. You are fortunate.’ And I 
went away, and I took my boat and I put out to sea.” 

“ To be sure,” Dick said, “ it was a kindness to the gen- 
tleman. But what will I do with you ? ” It is to be feared 
that Donna Teresa made eyes at him, for he went on aus- 
terely : “ And what did you think would befall you when 

you put to sea?” 

She laughed at him. 

“ A great romance, so please you, and here it is.” 

Dick rubbed his chin. 

“Well, well; I count I’ll get a price for you from your 
father.” 

She stared, then started up. 

“You would betray me?” 

“ ’Tis all you are good for.” 

“ I hate you! I hate you ! ” 


ETIQUETTE OF THE PROFESSION 253 

Dick tapped on the table, and without looking at her he 
said: 

‘‘ My dear, you had better/’ 

There was silence between them. When she spoke her 
voice was gentler. 

‘‘ Take me to Genoa. I have a cousin married there, and 
there the women are free. I was going to Genoa.” 

“ You ” — for once Dick was startled — “ you were going 
to Genoa? God save you! You thought you could make 
Genoa in that cock-boat ! ” 

I know all about sailing,” she protested. 

Dick considered her gravely. 

“ ’Tis a miracle you are alive to-day,” he said. My 
dear — ’tis not much in my way indeed — but you have some 
matter for a prayer or so.” 

With which he left her, and she may have been sur- 
prised. 

I do not know that he was much surprised at himself. 
He was by many tests, as you have seen, a man of little 
chivalry. And yet he had his honour. You think of 
loyalty to the girl of the west-country Downs which should 
doubtless have made him austere to Donna Teresa. If any- 
thing is sure about him, it is that he counted it the only 
use of his life to unite himself with Mary Rymingtowne. 
But he was not delicate. I do not think that loyalty would 
have stayed him from an hour’s game at love-making. I 
do not doubt that Donna Teresa excited him. Her rich 
beauty, her restless life, called to his abounding strength. 
And all that summer’s voyage to Marseilles, and on from 
Marseilles to Genoa, she had nothing from Him but bluff, 
mocking jokes like a brother’s and a brotherly respect. He 
had his honour. He was an English sea captain of the 
same blood and the same creed as Hawkins and Drake. He 
could use craft and violence to his enemies without shame. 
He played no tricks with the helpless. And under his flag. 


254 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


on board his ship virtue reigned. In his command there 
must be nothing unseemly. 

So Donna Teresa aboard the Reckoning found herself as 
much a child as with her duenna. That she was grateful I 
have never been sure. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

DON DIEGO IS BLIND TO HIS BLESSINGS 

They came to Genoa and moored, and were beset by a 
crowd of boats, and a crowd of pedlars swarmed aboard. 
The Reckoning's crew had always money to waste. The 
ship was tumultuous, and tumult was permitted. But as 
Dick came out of his cabin he found a shabby fellow in 
the alley way. That was against all order. The pedlars 
were always forbidden below. Dick said so with oaths and 
a blow, and the fellow, who had a pack, whined out that 
he wanted to sell laces to the lady. Dick drove him on 
deck and into his boat. 

The affair was irritating. Teresa had been persuaded to 
keep her cabin till word of her was sent to her cousin. The 
world need not be advertised that she was aboard the Reck- 
oning. What did the pedlar fellow know of her? There 
was no fear that he knew anything of importance. 
The crew of the Reckoning, tried in many a delicate busi- 
ness, blabbed no secrets. The pedlar might have caught up 
some joke about a woman aboard. It was inconceivable 
that he knew more, and so much could do no harm. Still, 
better if he had known nothing. 

Dick went ashore with a letter from Teresa to her cousin, 
who was married to the heir of the Fieschi. Then he was 
again annoyed. The woman was gone with her family to 
Naples, and the servants talked of a month before she would 
be back. Dick dined at his favourite tavern in a morose 
temper. As he went back to his ship through the twilight 
a man tried to stab him. 

It was in one of the narrow lanes close above the har- 

ass 


256 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


bour. A fellow lurched against him and checked him, and 
another sprang upon him from behind. Dick flung him- 
self backwards against the wall, heard the spit of an oath, 
and felt the sear of steel along his neck as between him 
and the wall the man’s body was crushed. Not very sure 
that he was alive, he hurled himself free, plucking at his 
sword. Then he was alone in the lane. The two who be- 
set him — he hardly heard the patter of their feet — had 
scurried away into the warren of houses. 

He felt his neck. There was no worse than a deep 
scratch in the side of it. He had come off well. Slowly 
and warily he made for the quay, and found his boat and 
was rowed out. He went pensively to bed. The affair was 
not strange. For a ship captain, or any one else who might 
have a purse, to be done to death in the alleys of Genoa was 
nothing new. Yet he had never been assailed before, and 
the attack fell oddly with the coming of Teresa and the 
curious pedlar. He thought so for five minutes before he 
slept. 

In the morning at breakfast he said nothing to Teresa 
of pedlar or dagger, but he told her that her cousin was 
away at Naples, and she laughed at him. 

“ Alack, poor soul, and you so longing to be rid of me ! 
You will have spent the night in tears! Or curses was it? 
My poor gentleman ! And shall we sail another voyage to- 
gether then?” 

“ No, by your leave. That you are mad I know well 
enough. But I’ll not have you drive me mad. I would 
not be like you, my girl, for ten thousand ducats.” 

“ Indeed,” Teresa gurgled, “ you would be a woman of 
sharp corners,” and she drew on the table a picture of 
Richard Rymingtowne’s rectangular shape. At this point 
it was announced that a gentleman desired speech with Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne, and he escaped. On the poop stood a 
slim fellow in black silk and velvet, with braid of gold, and 
a golden plume in his cap. 


BLIND TO HIS BLESSINGS 


257 


‘‘ I am Diego de Vasquez, sir,” said he. 

Captain Rymingtowne showed no intelligence. It was 
uncomfortably awkward that the gentleman whom Teresa 
should have married, and from whom Teresa had run, 
should be after her so soon. But there was no use in 
telling him so. 

“ Diego de Vasquez,” Captain Rymingtowne repeated. 
“ And who is he, if you please? ” 

“ I am the nephew of Don Pedro de Fazardo, the Vice- 
roy of Valencia, and I come seeking his daughter.” 

Dick gaped. 

** What — on earth ? I thought she was in heaven — be- 
ing drowned, poor soul, in her innocence.” 

“ She is in your ship, sir.” 

Dick patted his shoulder. 

“ My poor lad, you are light in the head. ’Tis a sad 
business to be sure, but — get you to an apothecary.” 

“ Buffoonery will not serve, sir. She is on your ship. 
You are lying to me, as you lied to the admiral and to Don 
Alonzo. She is on your ship, and has been seen.” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked the lad up and down, and 
(so he declares) liked him well. He had, it seems, an eye 
and an air, and his little golden beard was dainty. But 
the affair grew serious. 

You call me liar,” Dick drawled. ‘‘ Boys will be call- 
ing names. Who is your friend who sees visions ? ” 

Don Diego hesitated. 

‘‘ A prying pedlar, maybe? Give you joy of your com- 
rades, child. Was it you or he which would have stabbed 
me in the back?” 

Don Diego flushed. 

You may be assured, sir, when I seek your death it shall 
not be stealthily. The rogue shall be punished.” 

“ Ay, he failed,” Dick sneered. 

“ I give you my word, sir, he had no charge from me 
but to discover the truth. The attack on you was his own 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


258 

infamy. For the which I have him in ward and will take 
order with him. It is I who am wronged, sir, not you, 
in that he sullied my service. You are answered.’’ 

‘‘ Here’s a brave crow,” Dick laughed. 

“ I am not here to change words with you. I require 
you yield me my cousin.” 

With a genial smile Dick considered him. 

“ Maybe ’tis your pretty beard — I begin to like you. 
Go back to Spain, dear lad, and thank God for all.” 

“ Very well. It is very well.” Don Diego grew pale 
and flushed again. I carry my cause to the duke, who 
will not be laggard to avenge the honour of Spain.” 

Dick laughed. 

God save you, you are such a fool I could believe you 
honestly in love. And yet you have not seen her face! 
Away to the duke and cry, ‘ Here is a wench, my lord, 
which rather than marry me put out to sea in a cock-boat 
to drown. Prithee condemn her to my arms.’ You will 
be the joy of all Spain.” 

Don Diego bit his lip. 

“ What do you know of her? You lie, I say! ” 

“ Look where she comes,” Dick shrugged. Now God 
give you joy of each other!” 

By the companion way Donna Teresa stood stately and 
very still. Don Diego gave a cry and started to seize her. 
She held up her hand against him and glided forward with 
a royal grace. Captain Rymingtowne drew aside to leave 
them the field, but to him she came and took his hand. It 
appeared to him that she had never been so desirable, never 
so richly a woman. 

I have come from Spain to seek you, lady,” Don' Diego 
cried. 

‘‘ Don Diego de Vasquez? ” she said coldly, and he bowed 
with some embarrassment. “ You come late, sir.” 

I protest I — ” 

“ It is late to protest. What do you want of me now? ” 


BLIND TO HIS BLESSINGS 


259 


‘‘Now? Want? ” he stammered. 

“ Yes. Be pleased to remember I am no more a slave to 
be given at my father’s will.” 

“ I will bring you back in all honour to Spain.” 

“And to marriage with you? I cry you mercy, sir. 
Thanks to this gentleman, I am free of you. Are you 
answered ? ” 

“ This gentleman ? What is he to you or you to him ? ” 

“ He has given me life.” 

“ This is no answer.” 

“ He saved me from drowning, which I had chosen rather 
than you. Are you answered now? ” 

“ Are you his wife? Are you to be his wife? ” 

“And if I am?” 

“ An English heretic, a common seaman. By heaven, he 
has bewitched you ! ” 

She began to laugh. 

Don Diego made her a bow and turned away to Captain 
Rymingtowne. 

“ By your leave, sir, a word in youi: ear. Be pleased to 
walk apart.” They drew to the gangway. “ I am an- 
swered. But I think that you owe me something.” 

“ I doubt I’ll have to thank you for a scratched face,” 
said Captain Rymingtowne in English, with a rueful glance 
over his shoulder. But in Spanish he answered: “At 
your will, lad.” 

“We must measure swords. I know not what your birth 
may be, but I waive that to meet you. Sir, I shall wait you 
an hour before sundown at the eastern gate.” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked at him with reflection. 

“ I would give something if I could deny you,” he said. 

With a swirl of skirts Teresa arrived between them. 

“What is it? A challenge?” she cried. “Nay, that 
shall not be! You shall not, for my sake!” She turned 
to Captain Rymingtowne very comely in her beseeching. 

“ Ask your cousin,” he shrugged. 


26 o 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


She turned to Don Diego. 

‘‘ You have no claim on me, I think,'' the lad said coldly. 

“Yes! Yes! Why must it end in this? What wrong 
have I done? I was not pledged. You had no right in 
me. And I — I have done no shame. Cousin, cousin, I 
meant you no ill. I could not be given to you bound like a 
beast in the cart for market. What ill has he done you? 
He saved me when I was drowning. He has been to me 
all honour. And now you would kill him for it. Ah, it is 
cruel, cruel ! It is not me but your pride that brought you 
seeking me. You have no love, you have nothing for me — 
nothing ! But you would kill the man who dares save me. 
You are cruel, cruel, and as cold — as cold — " 

“ Cold ! " the lad cried with something of a sob in his 
voice, and turned from her. She was poignantly beauti- 
ful. He spoke huskily, looking over the sea: “ I promise 
you the gentleman shall be safe from me." 

“ Ah, you’ll not meet him ! " 

He turned again with a stamp of his foot: 

“Yes, by heaven, yes!" and then he laughed a little. 
“ Oh, yes, we must meet, he and I." 

For a moment she was bewildered; then with a strange, 
tender cry she flung her arms about his neck. 

“You would let him kill you? Oh, cousin, cousin!" 
and she hid her face on his shoulder and laughed and 
sobbed. 

Captain Rymingtowne smiled sideways. 

“ There's what it is not to know when you are well off, 
my lad. Take her back to Spain, and God help you!" 
said he. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


PASSENGERS 

It is claimed by Captain Rymingtowne that his quarrel 
with the King of Spain was not of his seeking. I do not 
discover that he made strong efforts to avoid it or to com- 
pose it, nor yet that he had any remorse for profiting by it. 
But in the papers which he left behind him at Assynton he 
paints himself a simple, honest fellow, who meditated ill to 
no creature in Christendom — till his genial innocence was 
molested. Then, he allows, he hit back according to his 
ability. His modest journal expresses surprise that the 
King of Spain should have made a noise about the business, 
and hints decorously that his Majesty was no gentleman. 
But I fear that Captain Rymingtowne had a sense of hu- 
mour. You shall judge. 

That he had no original purpose of falling out with Spain 
I believe easily. He found as much plunder as his large 
appetite needed in hunting the Barbary pirates, and he was 
essentially a man who knew when he had enough. Also he 
was one of those who would not choose to make enemies of 
those who could pursue him home. 

Therefore I acquit Captain Rymingtowne of intending 
the quarrel. What is more, I think he might have tried to 
compose it if he had wanted to do more business in the 
Mediterranean. He was a very practical man. But he 
had his passions, and the quarrel came down upon him when 
he had made all he wanted out of the Moors — enough to 
keep house as a gentleman — when he was ready to go 
home to the lady of Assynton; and it annoyed him and he 
went into it vehemently. For, you suppose him thinking 


262 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


with oaths, if Spain sought to trap him when at last he was 
to possess the woman of his life, Spain should yield him 
jewels to hang on her neck, and a mocking triumph over all 
the power of Spain should be part of the laughter of their 
marriage. 

The original cause of it all was a girl and her temper. 
If Teresa de Fazardo had never run away from her father 
in a cock-boat, it is certain that Captain Rymingtowne 
would never have picked her up. Then Don Alonzo Girono 
would never have come seeking her, never have found Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne and what he called peevishly ‘‘ insolence 
contumely and lies.” 

When Captain Rymingtowne sent the lady back to Spain 
with the gentleman paternally destined to marry her, he 
imagined the whole business happily over. But her father 
who was a person of importance, and Don Alonzo Girono, 
who had important uncles, conceived that in making fools 
of them Captain Rymingtowne had outraged the majesty of 
Spain, and must be notably punished. 

Captain Rymingtowne was in Genoa dealing with finance 
of which he had as sure a mastery as of seamanship. The 
harvest of his cruises was stored in many places. There 
was money of his already in England with Gresham ; there 
was more in Venice, and some in Nuremberg, and some as 
far as the Hansa towns. The lordly bank of St. George 
had most, and had to give account for all. There was still 
merchandise to sell, Eastern brocades and a treasure of per- 
fumes. Altogether he counted himself worth ten thousand 
pounds. It was enough, and more than enough, to match 
his Berkshire girl’s manor with another, and entertain her 
splendidly. I imagine him content, for, despite the master- 
ful greed of that jaw, it is certain that he could be satis- 
fied. 

But he meant to make sure of every groat and to make 
the most of it, and so there were long conferences with the 
chiefs of the bank. When he was all but ready to sail, one 


PASSENGERS 


263 


of them introduced to him Annibale Gaddi, a banker of 
Florence, who, having business in England, wanted a pas- 
sage thither, and would pay for it handsomely. Messer 
Annibale Gaddi was perfectly the Italian man of money, 
smooth and polished, so that any reality in him seemed to 
slip through the fingers, consummately courteous, and cold 
as ice. Dick Rymingtowne, who liked all kinds of men, 
found the type amusing, but if he had been bored by it 
would doubtless have given it passage at a price. He had 
been bred too poor to despise any gain of size. So one 
passenger went aboard the Reckoning. 

Through the five years he had been in and out of Genoa 
harbour Dick Rymingtowne used the same tavern. Its fat 
and masterful mistress ranked as a friend. But since there 
was no need, he did not tell her that he was going back to 
England. All she knew, when she asked him if he would 
care to carry a man and wife across to Spain, was that he 
would soon be off on another cruise. Spanish ports were 
on the way to England, and it could be no great trouble 
to earn a few more ducats. That he and his ship might 
run into danger was not a possible suspicion. He had done 
Spain no wrong, and if he had, the matter of landing a 
pair of folk would but take him into harbour and out again 
before any one ashore had time to know who he was. He 
thought of the business as merely worth his while if the 
pair chose to make it worth his while. 

So he let Don Miguel Perez come to speech with him, 
and Perez brought his wife. They were visibly both Span- 
ish, though her eyes were blue and her hair yellow, an ar- 
rangement very comely against the golden brown of her 
skin. She was piquantly shaped and gay. Perez, shorter 
as well as slighter than she, was a neat, brisk fellow, and 
they both had a vivacious freedom of speech which Captain 
Rymingtowne liked none the worse because it was some- 
times a trifle coarse. He had, I fancy, a way of trusting 
folks rnore if they were not too virtuous, 


264 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Perez and his wife had come to Italy, as they said, after 
the inheritance of a cousin of hers. They wanted to go 
back to Alicante. That was too far out of Dick’s way, and 
he told them so ; but the price they offered was well enough, 
and if Cadiz would have served them, he could have spared 
them a cabin. Perez offered him another ten ducats to put 
in at Alicante. Captain Rymingtowne was not tempted. 
They seemed so much disappointed, the wife was so prettily 
cross, that he told them of a Genoese ship bound for Valen- 
cia, which might do their business. 

‘‘ I thank you for nothing,” said Perez fiercely. “ I 
know that captain. I would not venture with him for a 
thousand ducats. An oily fellow. A knave of culture.” 

Dick shrugged. 

“ What d’ye look for in sea-captains ? Knaves we be 
all. ’Tis our living. And what d’ye fear of him? D’ye 
travel with this inheritance of yours?” 

“ Why, sir, there’s enough in my wife’s traps to buy a 
ship or two.” 

Dick shrugged. 

You are like the goose in the fairy tale that went call- 
ing ‘ Come and eat me.’ D’ye think I ha’ not the pluck to 
pluck you ? God help you, would you have me more virtu- 
ous than a little Genoese ? ” 

“ Oh, sir, your fame is known,” Perez laughed. ‘‘ You 
only plunder the heathen. You are — not to offend you — 
of approved honesty. But to be plain with you, ’tis not 
my ducats that I feared for, but my wife.” Whereat the 
wife looked coy, and made eyes at Dick. Our friend 
Matteo is known for a pirate, a slave dealer, a merchant in 
human flesh. And with you we are safe.” 

‘‘ Now out on it, this is a worse insult than the other,” 
Captain Rymingtowne grinned. ‘‘ D’ye think I would not 
know how to get a price for the lady ? ” 

‘‘ I count you a man of honour^ sir,” said Perez with a 
bow. 


PASSENGERS 265 

“ I will be sworn no woman hath ever trusted you in 
vain,” his wife smiled. 

** Maybe I never found one who was fool enough to 
trust me.” 

** Then let me be the first,” said the lady with a comely 
smile. 

God help you, you will come I see,” quoth Captain 
RymTngtowne. Well, it’s Cadiz or nowhere.” 

“ You are a hard man, sir,” the lady sighed. 

“ The better for you — and your husband,” quoth Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne. 

“ So be it,” said Perez. “ When do you sail ? ” 

“ Your baggage aboard to-morrow night and yourselves 
on the morning of Saturday.” 

Then Perez paid him half the passage money. So the 
Reckoning was provided with two more passengers. 

I suppose that Dick, as he went about his business, dis- 
missed them from his mind. He may have wondered a 
moment why Perez was so suspicious of Matteo Pulci, who 
had no worse name than other dubious mariners. But if he 
thought of them more than a moment it was merely to 
think that they would be amusing. He judged Perez a 
poltroon and the woman too fond of making eyes, but they 
had a humorous method in their faults which appealed 
to him. 

All these last days in Genoa were crowded with busi- 
ness, and any time which was free of that was given to 
eager dreams of the maiden of Assynton; but before he 
slept that night Perez obtruded himself again. Captain 
Rymingtowne feeling, as I conceive, much in love, chose to 
pace the quay after supper and look at the stars in the water 
when he ought to have been in bed. His walk took him 
past the ship of Matteo Pulci, and as he passed he heard 
Perez’s voice. He checked, and in the moonlight saw Perez 
standing at the gangway beside Matteo. They shook hands. 
Then Perez came ashore. Captain Rymingtowne took two 


266 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


paces forward and met him chest to chest, nose to nose, and 
said: 

God save you ! ’’ Perez recoiled so violently that he 
was almost gone backwards into the water. “Yes. You 
had no thought of seeing me,” said Captain Rymingtowne 
grimly. “ Maybe you had no wish for me to see you.” 

Perez laughed nervously. 

“ How you frightened me ! The truth is, my friend — 
be kind and do not tell my wife — the truth is, I am a great 
coward.” 

“Hasn’t she found out?” Captain Rymingtowne 
sneered. 

“ Ah, my friend, among women I am a very Hector. 
But among men,” he shrugged, “ one is what one is made.” 
He took Captain Rymingtowne’s arm: “ Confess that you 
were surprised to see me talking to that pirate ? ” 

“ Confess you never meant me to, my lad.” 

Perez laughed. 

“ I have had to give up being ashamed. I had no time 
for anything else. But yes — I did not mean you to know. 
One does not like to publish one’s weakness. The beast — 
he has bled me! He pretended that I had taken passage 
with him. He threatened to sue me for the money. And 
I — I want to get back to Spain. I had to make my peace 
with him. He would have put the officers upon me for a 
debtor about to fly the city. It cost me twenty ducats to 
buy him off. A pirate ! A leech ! ” He invoked several 
saints. “ Alas ! it is such as I who foster such as he. But 
what would you? I was born a timid man. My good 
friend, walk with me to my lodging. The streets are un- 
safe o’ nights.” 

Captain Rymingtowne jeered at him all the way, and 
afterwards, turning him over in thought, felt a contemptu- 
ous liking for him grow stronger. The fellow was so 
frankly feeble, so naively mean. 

In the morning, it amused him to see that Matteo Pulci’s 


PASSENGERS 


267 


ship was gone. Doubtless Pulci had never meant to stay 
and go to law. He only wanted to frighten money out of 
the poor Perez. Plainly he knew Sehor Perez well. 

That night, about sunset, the baggage of husband and 
wife was duly brought aboard. There was not much of it 
after all. It appeared that the inheritance from the cousin, 
whatever its worth, was not bulky. Yet the bundle attracted 
the interest of that first passenger, Annibale Gaddi, who 
came delicately to Captain Rymingtowne where he sat 
lonely upon the poop with amorous meditation and a dish 
of cherries. 

Am I wrong, sir, if I argue by this,’’ he waved towards 
the baggage, ‘‘ that I am to have more than your society 
aboard ? ” 

Captain Rymingtowne spat out cherry stones. 

“ Ay, ay. A gallant and his wife for Spain. Peace- 
able creatures. And for the rest — well, we be all flesh 
and blood.” 

“For Spain?” Messer Gaddi repeated. “I did not 
know that you would call at any port in Spain.” 

He was a man who always seemed to mean more than he 
said. Dick looked at him queerly. 

“ And why will I not touch at Spain, if you please? ” 

Annibale spread out a white hand. 

“Why not or why — what do I know? But some of 
you English mariners have found trouble in Spanish ports, 
with the Holy Office or in other matter. You English and 
the Spaniards — you do not much love each other in these 
days?” 

Dick shrugged. 

“ Nor love nor hate. I’ll have no trouble, my friend. 
Never fear, you shall come safe to England. We’ll be in 
Cadiz and out again, and not lose a day by it.” 

“ They are for Cadiz ? ” Gaddi said. “ I have some ac- 
quaintance ther^. May I know their name?” 


268 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ Perez, he calls himself. A little fellow with a wife 
which thinks she is pretty.” 

‘‘ I never heard of him,” said Gaddi, and turned away. 

Captain Rymingtowne relapsed to his cherries and his 
thoughts of love. 

In the morning, early, Perez and his wife came aboard, 
so early that Captain Rymingtowne had but just done break- 
fast and Annibale was not out of his cabin. 

“ It’s you for catching the worm, my lad,” said Captain 
Rymingtowne. 

‘‘ I confess I am in a hurry to be going,” Perez laughed. 
“ This is an unsafe town for a quiet man.” 

“ And I was afraid you might go without us,” his wife 
flushed. ** Was not that silly? ” She looked at Dick from 
the corners of her eyes. 

“ Why, I would not call you a fool,” said Dick, and 
looked at her without reverence. She knew how to make 
the most of her shape, and it was worth showing. A man- 
tilla of black lace set off piquantly the strange harmony of 
her yellow hair and golden brown skin, and the blue eyes 
were big and bright. “ You don’t know when you are well 
off, you landsmen. A sailor never goes o’ shipboard till 
he must, but here you come hours before your time, and 
the other we ha’ had for days.” 

“The other?” said Perez in a hurry. “You have an- 
other passenger ? ” 

His wife looked at him. 

“ Oh, ay,” Dick laughed. “ A tremendous fellow, my 
lad. A bully, a fire-eater!” 

“You should have told me,” said Perez nervously. 
“ Who is he? What is his name? ” 

“ He looks like a man, and he calls himself Annibale 
Gaddi.” 

“ I never heard of him,” said Perez, and still seemed 
troubled. 


PASSENGERS 


269 


“You’ll have time to cure that,” Dick grinned, and at 
this moment the precise face of Annibale Gaddi appeared 
at the top of the companion ladder. “Begin now: the 
most illustrious Annibale Gaddi, the most heroic Miguel 
Perez, who is silly enough to keep a wife.” 

The two men showed no liking for his wit. They stared 
at each other with something of distrust, something of de- 
fiance. It was a long minute before either spoke. 

“We are to be shipmates, I hear, sir,” Gaddi said coldly. 
“ I am honoured.” 

“ The pleasure is mine,” said Perez. “ You are for 
Spain, sir?” 

“ No, sir, I leave you there. I stay by the ship.” 

“ Indeed ! Well, I shall have time to make your ac- 
quaintance,” said Perez. They bowed again. “ You — 
you go on in the ship?” Perez suggested. 

“ I am bound for England, sir.” Then Gaddi turned to 
Dick : “ And count myself happy in sailing with such a 

captain.” 

“ There is none could please me so well,” Perez cried 
out, and smirked at Dick, and looked at his wife. 

“ It’s a very knight of the sea, I am sure,” said she, and 
languished. 

But Dick, who was bored, grunted out : 

“You’ve to know me yet. Try my breakfast. Maybe 
you’ll not eat much more, my lads.” 

Perez started. 

“ I do not know what you mean by that? ” 

“ I’ll have you at sea by nightfall.” 

“ Well, sir?” 

“Do you never get sea-sick?” Captain Rymingtowne 
grinned. On which omen they went below. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE GOLD SHIP 

Of the breakfast Captain Rymingtowne records that it 
was as oily as the introduction. He felt, I infer, that Gaddi 
and Perez together were much more tedious than apart, but 
nothing else about them seems to have occurred to him. He 
left them soon, and was busy in his cabin and later on deck. 
They remained below, playing chess, as he was told, but 
the lady ‘‘ buzzed about him like a fly,’’ while he checked 
men and lists with the boatswain. He decided that she 
was purely a fool. 

That afternoon, a little before sunset, they sailed. Pa- 
cing the poop while the land drew away, watching the white 
city lose its form and melt into a cloud. Captain Ryming- 
towne became pensive and as sentimental as he was able. 
Genoa had served him well ; Genoa had been rest and safety 
through five years of crowded strife, and now that he was 
leaving her for ever she seemed something like home. 
There was to be a real home, of course, now, away on the 
great shoulder of the grey-green downs, with the woman 
of his need to glorify life. But as night came down on the 
sea and Genoa was no more than a gleam of fading lights, 
as the ship drove on through black water, home seemed far 
and very far, and all his life’s desire, all that he had fought 
for, a dream. From this condition he was waked by Gaddi 
at his elbow. 

“ I should, without doubt, be Vo^blesome if I asked for 
a word apart.” 

Captain Rymingtowne glanced round. They were alone 
on the poop. 


270 


THE GOLD SHIP 271 

‘‘ You’re as much apart as you’re like to be unless you 
jump over side.” 

Gaddi looked all about him, too. 

I think that Sehor Perez is below with his wife.” 

‘‘Then I am sorry for him,” quoth Captain Ryming- 
towne. 

‘‘ I do not think her such a fool as she would have you 
think her,” said Gaddi suavely. 

“ You may fall in love with her for what I care.” 

“ I do not think she intends that it is to be I who should 
fall in love with her.” 

Well, that’s modest in you. And if you’re right, it’s 
modest in her.” 

“ I did not say that she was modest.” 

Captain Rymingtowne was irritated. 

“ For God’s sake say something or don’t say anything.” 

“ I shall endeavour. May I ask what you know of Sehor 
Perez?” 

“ As much as I know of you, my lad. His money is 
good.” 

Gaddi drew himself up. 

“ I will remind you, Captain, that I was introduced to you 
by persons of repute. Was he?” 

‘‘ What’s your quarrel with him? ” 

“ I shall take pains to have none. I do not think that 
Sehor Perez is a man whom persons of condition honour 
with a quarrel.” 

‘‘ I thought you had never heard of him.” 

“ I had not. That is why I have no confidence in him. 
For once I came upon a man in Rome, who was not called 
Perez, who had a very evil fame, and who fled the city, 
leaving two men dead in his lodging. And this man is as 
like him as you are like the man you see in the glass.” 

Captain Rymingtowne whistled. 

You seem to have some pleasant friends, my lad. What 
do you want me to do ? ” 


272 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Ask yourself what harm he can do you. And see that 
he does not do it.” 

Captain Rymingtowne considered Messer Gaddi without 
affection. 

‘‘ I am good at that trade, my lad.” 

Suddenly Perez’s wife fluttered up to them with a gig- 
gling question of what they two old fogeys were talking 
about. 

“ Supper,” said Captain Rymingtowne, and made for it. 
Gaddi was very affable to Sehor Perez over the meal. 
Neither of them had yet become sea-sick. They accommo- 
dated themselves to shipboard like seasoned travellers. But 
there was no reason why they should not be. 

In the morning, early, as Captain Rymingtowne stood 
naked while two seamen flung buckets of water at him, he 
saw Perez’s head and shoulders rise from below. He ex- 
pressed surprise, not delicately. He had not suspected 
Senor Perez of a desire to rise superfluously soon or be- 
come superfluously clean. But it appeared that Perez had 
not come for a bath. He was wholly dressed. What he 
wanted was conversation, and he began it while Captain 
Rymingtowne put on his breeches in the sunshine. 

“ Our good friend Gaddi is not afoot o’ mornings,” he 
said with something of a sneer. “ Candle light is more in 
his way than sunrise.” 

‘‘ To be sure it’s a gentlemanly taste,” said Captain Rym- 
ingtowne, and buttoned his shirt. 

“ Gentlemanly ! ” Perez laughed. ‘‘ Indeed, a dainty 
gentleman.” 

“ Dainty’s the word for him,” Captain Rymingtowne 
agreed benevolently. 

‘‘ I see you know him,” Perez sneered. 

I know what he pays. I give you my word it’s enough.” 

“ He would pay well,” said Perez thoughtfully. “ But I 
wonder why? ” 

Captain Rymingtowne turned to stare. 


THE GOLD SHIP 


^73 

You seem to know him well enough to ask him, my 
lad/’ 

Perez laughed. 

“ Yes, I think I know him. You look suspicious, sir. I 
told you I had never heard of him. When I knew him he 
was not called Gaddi. He was a spy then. I am wonder- 
ing if he is a spy now.” 

‘‘ God bless you, there’s nought for him to spy on but 
you,” Captain Rymingtowne laughed. 

Perez was startled, and for a moment uncomfortable, 
then he went on with bland dignity : 

“ Nay, he can do me no harm that I know. But if you 
have enemies, sir, look to it. For Gaddi is such a man as 
they would choose to discover your secrets. And he is 
cunning in his trade. As for me — I know nothing he can 
do unless he tell you slanders about me.” 

‘‘God help us! Why would he do that?” quoth Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne. 

“ For fear you should believe if I told you what he is. 
For fear you should be warned against him.” ' 

“Now here’s craft,” Captain Rymingtowne gaped; 
“ here’s craft to be sure.” 

“Who, I? Nay, craft lies below,” quoth Perez, but it 
may be that he heard steps. For when in a moment Gaddi 
came on deck, Sehor Perez was talking eagerly of when 
they would be in sight of land again. 

At the first opportunity — he was not delicate in making 
one — Captain Rymingtowne left the two suspicious gentle- 
men and went forward. He wanted to think about them. 
That each should be anxious for him to believe the other a 
rogue was something more than humorous. That each was 
a rogue, he believed easily. His mind was always apt to 
such an opinion. It was the reciprocal anxiety to urge it 
on him which was disturbing. Why should either care 
what he thought of the other? Neither was anything to 
him. Or why should two rascals hate each other because 


274 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


they found themselves in company on his ship ? They could 
have nothing to do there ? 

He records briefly that he had no suspicion of the truth. 
He made up his mind that they were spiteful fools, per- 
haps with old scores to clear, perhaps both in the same 
dirty business, which, whatever it was, could be no busi- 
ness of his. There were not many things in his well- 
managed life with which he was dissatisfied. His conduct 
in this affair seems to have made him smart whenever he 
remembered it. 

The two had spent much of their time at chess. Not so 
much. Captain Rymingtowne now perceived, from any af- 
fection for the game or each other’s society, as the desire 
of each to make sure that the other was doing nothing be- 
hind his back. All that day, too, they played chess, while 
Perez’s wife haunted the poop and made alluring attitudes 
and eyes. Captain Rymingtowne, having at last nothing 
better to do, allowed her to engage him. 

“ You avoid me, sir,” she complained with a challenging 
smile. ‘‘Am I beneath the dignity of a captain?” 

‘‘ I’ll swear I never thought so,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne with enthusiasm. She lowered her eyelashes co- 
quettishly. “ For I never thought about you.” 

“ Oh ! Indeed you hit with a bludgeon, sir. And am I 
so little account ? ” she languished in comely curves. 

‘‘ You are doubtless all that is alluring, my friend. But 
I am never allured while my ship’s at sea.” 

The Senora Perez sighed deeply. 

“ I see that you dislike me. Confess that you dislike 
me. 

I have no time for it.” 

“ Ah, you are all contempt ! There is something in me ; 
you distrust me, sir? Indeed, it is cruel.” 

“ My lady, I only distrust people who matter to me.” 

‘‘ Oh, you are worse and worse ! ” she protested prettily. 


THE GOLD SHIP 


27s 

What is it you have against me? You have heard some 
ill of my husband? You suspect him? You — ” 

“ I suspect we are making fools of ourselves. So Til 
walk for’ard.” With which he left her. He saw that she 
had been put up by her husband to find out whether he had 
been listening to Gaddi, and what he believed. He began 
to be bored by the whole affair. The fools were tiresome. 
Doubtless they would both be the better of a hanging, but 
to worry him about which deserved it most was intolerable. 
And the woman with her world-old coquetries insulted his 
intelligence. 

But if his intelligence had not been so contemptuous, or if 
even he had looked back at her after he turned away, he 
might have found something more in her than the weary 
craft of the decoy. 

He records nothing more in particular of this part of 
the voyage, except that, as soon as the Spanish coast was 
in sight, and long before they were near Cadiz, Perez ap- 
peared anxiously impatient to arrive. They came into Ca- 
diz bay after sunset, and, as Captain Rymingtowne had 
no mind to fumble his way past islets into a strange har- 
bour by night, they anchored to wait the dawn. To this 
delay, however, Perez had no objection, and he was good 
enough to say so to Captain Rymingtowne, thus making 
himself the butt of sardonic insolence. For Captain Rym- 
ingtowne, I find, much disliked the comments of lands- 
men on what he did with his ship. 

Not abashed, Senor Perez was up on deck before dawn, 
and jumping about like a flea ” (I quote Captain Ryming- 
towne) while they had the anchor up and got under way. 
The wind was easterly, which gave them some trouble, but 
the tide ran strong. It was a morning of great beauty. The 
tall marble houses on the limestone headland were at first all 
golden above the dark water, and then, as the light came 
in flood from the cloudless east, shining like a city of 
jewels. Perez expressed his delight so banally, with such a 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


2y6 

base landsman’s yearning to be on the land, that Captain 
Rymingtowne addressed him with a mordant voice: 

Well, you’re mighty glad to have done with us, my 
lad. It’s kind in you to help us feel the same for you.” 

At which Gaddi, who had also chosen to be on deck be- 
times, desiring, as he said politely, to see the last of Sehor 
Perez, sniggered with delicacy. Perez’s wife, who was 
very close by her husband, looked timidly at him, and then 
at Captain Rymingtowne with an expression of pity which 
he did not the least understand, but seems to have remem- 
bered. After a minute Perez explained volubly that he 
was intoxicated with joy at being come again to his native 
land and his children, of whom they had not before heard. 
He then gushed forth professions of obligation and friend- 
ships to Captain Rymingtowne. I suppose he was nervous. 

Captain Rymingtowne anchored his ship off the town be- 
tween the two castles, which is certainly evidence enough 
that he neither intended nor expected trouble. The Span- 
ish ambassador in his plaint to the Privy Council denied this, 
but was refuted into silence. The cable was hardly out 
before Perez rushed upon Captain Rymingtowne and 
grasped his hand : 

My friend^ a thousand thanks for a most felicitous voy- 
age. You have entertained us as though we were friends 
and kinsfolk.” 

“ I’ll not say that you have not entertained me,” said 
Captain Rymingtowne. “ Is your baggage packed ? ” 

‘‘We shall not forget your courtesy,” Perez cried, and 
looked a volume of instigation at his wife. But she would 
not answer his eyes. She hung back. “ Come, sir, let’s 
make a festival of our parting.” 

“ I am not so happy as that,” Captain Rymingtowne 
drawled. 

“ I wish this were Alicante, that we could do you honour 
in our own home. But at least let us show you what Span- 
ish good-will is and Spanish good fare. Come ashore with 


THE GOLD SHIP 


277 


us and let us have a merry dinner.” Again he looked at his 
wife, who was still backward, and for a moment there was 
something of venom in his sleek face. “ Nay, I’ll not be 
denied,” he said eagerly ; “ you must honour us with an hour 
ashore, sir.” 

“ I cannot suffer that,” said Gaddi quietly. 

They all looked at him — Captain Rymingtowne with 
amused amazement, and a ‘‘ God bless you, granddad ! ” 
Perez, with that touch of venom contorting his mouth and 
a “You, my old friend?” The woman in surprise and 
fear. 

Then Perez said with contempt: 

“ Oh, the gentleman is sore at being left out of a good 
dinner.” 

“ I might be more sore of eating it,” Gaddi said quietly. 
“ Captain Rymingtowne, if you, who are an Englishman, 
go ashore in Spain, you may stay there longer than you 
wish, which, as you observe, is no affair of mine. But my 
voyage would be delayed, which I should deplore.” 

“ Now you are very tender of me, to be sure,” said Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne, and looked at him with a grin and a 
frown. “ But I ha’ cut my wisdom teeth, granddad, and 
ril thank you not to hold my hand.” 

Perez laughed heartily. 

“ I think the old gentleman has a stomach ache. Come, 
sir, let’s leave him to nurse it! You are in no more danger 
on Spanish ground than strutting your own quarter-deck. 
Danger, quotha! The only danger you shall find with me 
is what there is in a gallon of the best from Xeres.” 

“ I’ll dine with you, my lad, when you come to Berk- 
shire,” said Captain Rymingtowne. “ Now I am in a 
hurry to be there, and I have spent time enough already in 
landing you.’* He turned to a sailor and said in English. 
“ Get their baggage on deck.” It seems that he was now 
doubtful of Perez and Gaddi both. They were both too 
interested in him for his taste. 


278 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Perez turned to his wife, and there was something of a 
threat under his tone of urgent affection: 

‘‘ Come, Maria, my love, the gentleman makes us seem 
inhospitable. Persuade him to honour us.’’ 

I know that he will not listen to me,” the woman said 
wearily. 

Perez gave her a look like a blow. Captain Ryming- 
towne strode away, shouting in English : 

Get a ladder over the side. Is that baggage ready ? ” 

Perez hurried after and cried out: ‘‘Why, sir, if you 
are in such a hurry to be rid of us, we’ll not hinder you. 
Let us have a boat and be gone.” 

Captain Rymingtowne turned upon him and stared a mo- 
ment. You have to suppose at least that he could not read 
his man clear. For: 

“ None of my men leaves the ship, my lad,” he said. 
“ We’ll hail a shore boat for you.” The which he did in a 
great roar. 

Perez shrugged and made a gesture and laughed nerv- 
ously. 

“You — you are in an ill-humour, sir. Have your way 
— have your way. I am sure it is nothing to me.” 

“ Then you’ll lose nothing by it,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne, and hailed the shore again. 

From the time they anchored, or before, there had been 
a many watchers on the quay, and movement among them. 
In the last few moments their numbers had increased, and 
at Captain Rymingtowne’s shouts there was a bustle of 
activity. All this, of course, was to be expected in any 
port. Since Cadiz had two citadels to garrison, the Eng- 
lish seamen were not surprised to see musketeers and hal- 
berds in the crowd. So far no man on the Reckoning had 
a suspicion of the design. 

Not one boat, but two, pushed off from the quay steps, 
and not mere cock-boats or wherries, but a pair of pinnaces 
and close packed with men. There were some old fellows 


THE GOLD SHIP 


279 


in gowns in the stern of the first. Between the oarsmen and 
on the bottom boards sat soldiers, and the smoke of their 
matches defiled the clear air. 

Captain Rymingtowne swore an English oath, and then 
fiercely : 

‘‘ You, Perez! What the devil is this? ” 

“ What should it be? ’’ Perez echoed and licked his Hp. 
His voice sounded shrill. It will only be the Mayor of 
the town come off to welcome you. We are ceremonious 
in Spain. We — ’’ 

Captain Rymingtowne broke from him shouting: 

Man the capstan ! All hands on deck I ” There was a 
scurry of bare feet and the trumpet sounded, and the Reck- 
oning boiled with energy. ‘'Walk her round!” Captain 
Rymingtowne cried. “ Gunner ! Starboard carronades ! 
Younkers aloft! ” 

The Reckoning was moving up to her anchor before the 
pinnaces bumped alongside. There was a tumult of arro- 
gant shout from them to this tune : 

“Halt there, English! Halt! We board you! The 
Corregidor comes aboard ! ” 

“ The devil he does,” Captain Rymingtowne muttered, 
and made for the ladder. He was in time to find Perez 
going over the side, and he caught him by neck and wrist, 
and dragged him up again, and dashed him down on the 
deck with intent to knock the sense out of him, and suc- 
ceeded. Captain Rymingtowne kicked him out of the way, 
and leaning on the bulwarks, shouted, “ Stand off in those 
boats! Standoff! We are under way, and you’ll be sunk, 
my lads ! ” 

But already a man in a gown was on the ladder and 
climbing up. 

“ You are for a voyage, are you? ” said Captain Ryming- 
towne. The man continued to climb. 

From the bow the boatswain shouted: 

“ Up and down, sir.” 


28 o 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“Break her out!” Captain Rymingtowne roared. 
“ Ready carronades I Stand off, those shore boats, or I’ll 
sink you, by God 1 ” He gave the man in the gown a hand 
to haul him up, and before another could get firmly upon 
the ladder, threw it down upon the boats. “ There’s for 
you! Stand off, you fools! Now” — he turned to the 
man in the gown — “ now, who the fiend are you ? ” 

“ Sir captain, I am the Corregidor of Cadiz. And you 
— you are the English Captain Rymingtowne of the ship 
Reckoning ” 

“ Anchor’s apeak ! ” the boatswain shouted. 

“ You’ll have time to know me, my lad,” quoth Captain 
Rymingtowne, and shouted, “ Shake out the mainsail,” and 
walked aft to con his ship. 

The Corregidor pursued him, crying: 

“ Sir, you are under arrest, you and your ship. I arrest 
you in the name of the King of Spain ! ” 

“ God bless him ! ” said Captain Rymingtowne. The 
Reckoning was going through the water and the pinnaces 
laboured after her with shouts. From one came a ragged 
volley of musketry. Captain Rymingtowne turned on the 
Corregidor. “Now, confound your eyes, this is war!” 

“ Sir, you are under arrest, I say. You insult the King 
of Spain. I command you to anchor.” 

Captain Rymingtowne said something coarse. 

The outer citadel was now abeam. From its walls came 
white puffs of smoke and thunder, but again and again the 
balls whistled harmlessly through the rigging. As they 
drew away there was a crash and roar of rent canvas and 
tackle, and half the mizzen topmast came thudding down 
on deck with men bleeding beneath it. 

Captain Rymingtowne put passion into oaths. But, re- 
cording this, he adds piously that the providence of God 
would not suffer them to be delivered to their enemies. For 
he was not hurt, nor the helmsman nor the wheel, nor steer- 
ing gear. The ship held on her course, and for all the 


THE GOLD SHIP 


281 

wreckage had lost little of her press of sail. She drew out 
of range without more harm. 

When with axe and lever they cleared away the wreck, 
it was found that one younker lay dead, and another and 
the trumpeter had hurts on head and rib and arm. And 
besides, the wife of Perez lay on the deck, distorted and 
very still, moaning. 

While seamen toiled her husband had found his feet, 
and, still dazed, began to look about him and mutter. He 
saw her plight, but did not come to her. 

Captain Rymingtowne having had his men borne away 
forward under the coxswain’s care, the best surgeon they 
had, bent over her and raised her head. 

“A bad business is it?” said he to her moans. '‘Can 
you stand, my girl ? ” 

Gaddi sauntered up with some curiosity in his cold face. 
From the bulwarks where he was watching the shore line, 
Perez, I suppose, turned to look. 

The woman gazed up into Captain Rymingtowne’s face, 
and, after a minute, which seems to have impressed him 
strangely — he talks about a tenderness as of one who was 
glad to suffer — she smiled. 

"You; you would not listen to me,” she said, and then 
she laughed gaily, innocently, like a child. Again her face 
was drawn with pain. " You would not take me,” she mut- 
tered. " You are the first.” Captain Rymingtowne con- 
fesses that he was troubled by the cold shame in her eyes. 
She raised herself a little. " For the love of God, kiss 
ixie — kiss me ! ” she cried. Captain Rymingtowne bent 
over her. 

I suppose that Perez had drawn near before. Captain 
Rymingtowne was only aware of him crying, " Curse you ! 
You’ve played me false ! ” as he drove the dagger into her 
breast. 

Captain Rymingtowne let her fall, and sprang round to 
seize him, but he had rushed to the bulwarks and dived into 


282 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

the water, and was seen striking out tumultuously for the 
distant shore. 

The gunner came running with a musket. 

Let be,” said Cap^tain Rymingtowne. ‘‘ There’s water 
enough to drown him. Let him die slow,” and he turned 
away. Then his eye was taken by Gaddi, who came saun- 
tering calmly towards him. It was natural, you will agree, 
that he should be irritated. He protests that Gaddi had 
been for some time insufferable, and this callousness in the 
affair of the woman was the last straw. I think that the 
adventures of the morning had so wrought upon him that 
he was aching for a chance to explode. 

With a rare, vehement ferocity he swore at Gaddi : 

‘‘You — and a plague on you! Why in God’s name 
could you not stay him, you limp, languid fool ? ” 

Gaddi shrugged. 

“You forget yourself. Captain. You are impudent.” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked him up and down. 

“ Now the Lord confound your wooden face,” said he. 
“You’d face me out, would you? You would talk me 
down? I’ll handle you, my lad. Why, you are no better 
stuff than your brother that’s over the side.” 

It seems that Gaddi’s lean, controlled face exhibited some 
alarm. He cried out: 

“ You talk like a fool, sir. What’s the fellow to 
me? ” 

Captain Rymingtowne was in a mood to find treachery 
everywhere. “ That’s what I’ll find out, my lad,” quoth 
he. “ You know too much, and you do too little. Gun- 
ner! Take him in guard, take him forward, him and the 
Spaniard. Keep them apart, keep them in sight.” 

“ This is not to be borne,” Gaddi cried, as a seaman laid 
hands on him. “What do you intend, sir?” 

“To know what you knew of the rat, and what he knew 
of you, and what you are ! 

“ Sir, you’ll not dare,” Gaddi stormed. 


THE GOLD SHIP 283 

Now bless your eyes, get forward,'’ cried the gunner, 
and thrust him down the ladder to the waist. 

Captain Rymingtowne began to pace the deck. You are 
not to suppose him anxious. He had, to be sure, run away 
with the Corregidor of Cadiz, and for that Spain would 
demand satisfaction. But he and his ship had been fired 
upon in time of peace, without cause, and it was not to be 
supposed that any Government — least of all the Govern- 
ment which breathed the spirit of Queen Elizabeth — would 
allow that the King had a claim against him. Nor fear, 
but passion for revenge, made his thoughts unsteady. He 
had seen men of his killed wantonly. You misconceive 
him if you do not know that his soul was insurgent for 
the chance to draw blood from the power that had killed 
them. Of course he could do it. He could make it easy 
to snap up a Spanish craft with rich freight enough. It 
was the season of the coming of the ships from South Amer- 
ica with those cargoes of silver and gold which made Spain 
dominant in the world. The summer's end always saw 
one or more of them sail in to Cadiz. But to seize one 
would be flat piracy. England could not protect him. 
When Spain asked for her gold and the head of the man 
who stole it, it was impossible that she should be denied. 
England would not risk war to declare her sea captains 
pirates. War might be coming, but he knew his Queen 
well enough to know that she would seek a better occasion 
and sacrifice without an argument any man whose folly 
gave her trouble. Yet he coveted those gold ships pas- 
sionately. To snatch one of them would be a blow to 
make Spain wince, a revenge that would ring through 
Christendom. His anger cried that he was shamed if he 
were content with less. 

It is hard to imagine him resolving to fling his own life 
away for the sake of rage over dead men. But he was, 
beyond doubt, much agitated and unsure of himself. To 
. grow calmer, to make his brain master again, he went below 


284 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


and set himself to unravel the mystery from which the 
whole bad business sprang. He had no doubt, as soon as 
he could make himself think, that Perez had sought a pas- 
sage to Cadiz to bring him within the grasp of Spain. The 
woman’s task, of course, was to lull his suspicions, to al- 
lure him, to decoy him ashore, and because she had turned 
honest and shrank from that, her husband conceived that 
she had blabbed and put Captain Rymingtowne on guard. 
But who had set Perez on? 

Captain Rymingtowne began to go through his baggage. 
Very soon he found letters from the Governor of Valencia 
and Don Alonzo Girono, which made the scheme plain. 
They were pleased to call Captain Rymingtowne many ill 
names. They desired to have him and his crew in prison 
and confiscate his ship. Perez had been paid five hundred 
ducats to bring the Reckoning into a Spanish harbour, Va- 
lencia or Alicante or another. As soon as he knew to 
which Captain Rymingtowne would consent to go, he was 
charged to send word. That explained everything, includ- 
ing Perez’s strange visit to the Genoese ship. ^Once in har- 
bour Perez was to get Captain Rymingtowne on shore, if 
he could, but the Corregidor of the port would be warned 
and have a guard ready. Altogether it was a very neat 
plan. Captain Rymingtowne formally ascribes his escape 
to Providence. 

Discovering how well the plan was laid, he seems to have 
become cooler. So much for Perez — a rogue of high abil- 
ities. But what, then of Messer Annibale Gaddi? He had 
confessed a knowledge of Perez. Perez had talked of 
knowing him. They were doubtless a pair of the profes- 
sional traitors in which the age abounded. What if they 
knew more than they said? Gaddi had suspected some- 
thing of Perez’s plot, and shown it by his warnings. How 
much did he know? Why had he not chosen to speak 
clearly till the last? Did he fear what Perez might tell of 
him? Had he a plot of his own? 


THE GOLD SHIP 285 

Captain Rymingtowne went to Gaddi’s cabin. For some 
time he found nothing of interest but a coffer heavy with 
money, but at last, dealing brutally with a locked leather 
wallet, such as a man might carry in his bosom at a pinch, 
he found a mass of papers. The first defied him, being in 
Latin, though he could see they were from Rome, and ad- 
dressed to Englishmen. That was more than enough for 
suspicions. Soon he came to Spanish, and found himself 
in the midst of a conspiracy that brought the blood to his 
brow. There had been rumours of war and revolt, and 
the Queen’s murder many a year. Here were plans of war 
and murder instant. The Queen was to be taken out of 
the way.” The Duke of Alva was to land in Essex with 
twenty thousand men. And here a letter from the King 
of Spain himself to the Duke of Norfolk promised him the 
Viceroyalty of England. Not the Duke of Norfolk only,, 
but half a dozen other men of note, it was plain, had sworn 
themselves to Spain, and Spain sent money and promised 
arms. The autumn was to see England in flames. 

Captain Rymingtowne flung himself back in his chair. 
Here under his hand was matter enough to warrant him, 
though he sank every ship which bore the Spanish flag. 
The man who brought that wallet to the Queen’s council 
might laugh at any plaint of Spain. I do not find evidence 
that he was familiar with Scripture, but he professes that 
he cried out as he gripped the wallet again : 

“ The Lord hath delivered them into my hand.” 

He gave orders that Gaddi was to be strictly guarded. 
He took care that Gaddi should know nothing of what he 
had discovered by telling no man anything. And of what 
he meant to do he told nothing, but for a week the Reck- 
oning beat to and fro between Cape St. Vincent and Cadiz 
Bay always just out of sight of land. 

At the end of a week they sighted a carrack deep in the 
water, weather-beaten from an ocean voyage, plainly to a 
seaman’s eye one of the treasure ships from the Indies. 


286 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


She laboured on, fearing nothing. The Reckoning ran 
close and gave two broadsides that brought her mainmast 
down before she fired a shot. Then Captain Rymingtowne 
boarded her, and, such plight was she in, took her without 
a man lost. Only the boatswain had a pike between his ribs, 
of which, since he was fat, the wound healed slowly. They 
found aboard her a hundred and fifty thousand pezos of 
gold and some silver, besides pearls and emeralds, the which 
they put aboard the Reckoning, and left the carrack to take 
the news home to Spain. So they made sail for Bristol 
very merrily. 


CHAPTER XXIX 

THE LONDON ROAD 

Alderman Fry had grown in girth and conceit of him- 
self. Hence a turning of his chin towards heaven and an 
oscillation of his gait. For neither in conceit nor girth 
had he ever been lacking. It is stranger that he had be- 
come in a degree mellow. He was now civil to his equals 
and almost genial to his apprentices. He was even on 
speaking terms with his daughter. Thus you see that pros- 
perity may be good for a man. 

He was accounted the richest fellow in Bristol. The 
endeavours of Captain Rymingtowne had sent him from the 
Mediterranean moneys and merchandise which surprised 
him and dazzled his neighbours. His own considerable en- 
ergy caused these gains to multiply fast. Behind his back 
folks said that his seafaring, his capture by the Moors, and 
his days of slavery had made him twice as good a man of 
business. It seems certain that these vicissitudes made him 
more than twice as human. But that was easier. 

So as he strutted the quay he was saluted with much 
honour and some affection. He was more than commonly 
friendly. His spirits were exuberant. He had been ad- 
vised that Captain Rymingtowne and his profitable ship the 
Reckoning were coming home at last, and he conceived that 
if Captain Rymingtowne was ready to make an end of the 
venture, there must be a noble account to render. Accord- 
ing to the letters from Genoa, the ship was some weeks 
behind her time, and if any other captain had been aboard 
her he might have been uneasy. It was not possible for 
him to think that Captain Rymingtowne could fail. There- 
fore he took the air on the quay, exuding satisfaction. 


288 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


But if he felt divinely prosperous and important, he was 
not in other ways a fool. For days past he had remarked 
strangers in Bristol who took an interest in him. Some 
two or three of them had made acquaintance with him and 
been very conversational. None of them confessed any 
knowledge of the others, and yet he had found reason to 
believe that they were all friends. On this October morn- 
ing he saw them on the quay again, and two pleasant bab- 
blers, engaging him in talk, began to ask questions of the 
Reckoning. He remembered that their conversation had 
set the same way before. And as before he dismissed the 
Reckoning and its business carelessly, like a trifle beneath 
a great merchant’s notice. But he did not dismiss them. 
He was very affable on many matters, trying to discover 
what their trade might be. He could make certain of 
nothing but that they were no merchants. It was equally 
important that he could not be certain one of them was 
English. He began to wonder what the Reckoning had 
been doing, and what would happen when she came home. 
He was not frightened. 

That night after supper there was a little rapping at his 
back door. The man whom his servant brought up through 
the garden was Captain Rymingtowne. It says much for 
the reformation of Alderman Fry that he gave greeting with 
a grip of both hands, and a hearty ‘‘ My dear lad! Here’s 
a happy day!” before he asked after the ship. 

I ha’ not brought her with me,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne grimly. 

The alderman changed colour and coughed. But he still 
behaved well. 

I’ll be bound it’s no fault of yours,” quoth he. 

Captain Rymingtowne laughed. 

“ It is not,” he agreed. “ I could never get her through 
your back door. Take heart, old gentleman. She’s safe 
enough. She’ll be near Avonmouth by now.” 


THE LONDON ROAD 289 

“You came ashore?’’ The alderman was still startled. 
“ You came on by land?” 

“From Bridgewater. And why? Because I look for 
more trouble at home in England than in ten year of sea, 
fighting the heathen. I ha’ gutted a Spanish treasure ship, 
and all her gold is aboard the Reckoning/^ 

The alderman breathed heavily. 

“We be at peace with Spain,” he said. “ This is flat 
piracy.” 

“ Pirates it is,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. “ Be you 
afraid? ” 

You see the two of them stare at each other. Captain 
Rymingtowne, big and everywhere rectangular, his face lean 
and dark brown, the heavy chin thrust out, the eyes very 
deep beneath the brow; the alderman all curves of fat, his 
bald shiny head, his full face crimson with good living, the 
protruding eyes blinking nervously. Yet in his straight, 
close lips, in his calm pose, there is something of the pug- 
nacity, something of the resolution obvious in Captain Rym- 
ingtowne. 

“ Spain will want her gold back, Dick Rymingtowne, 
and your head with it,” said the alderman quietly. “ There 
have been some queer folk in Bristol this week or more 
asking me after you.” 

Captain Rymingtowne laughed. 

“ I guessed that. Well, old gentleman, will you stand 
with me? ” 

“ I ha’ done well by you this ten year,” said the alderman. 
“ ril stand with you short of losing my head with you. 
But I doubt not you lost it, my lad, when you played pirates 
with Spain.” He looked puzzled. “ Yet that’s not like 
you neither.” 

“ It is not,” said Captain Rymingtowne with satisfaction. 
“ Look you now. Spain fired on me first. I was in Cadiz 
harbour, peaceful, about no harm, and the forts tried to 


290 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


sink me. So I went out and took a ship to pay for my spars. 
Was that like me?” 

Maybe. But maybe they’ll not thank you at Court for 
making war on Spain.” 

“ Will they not ? I had caught aboard my ship an Italian 
spy which was bringing letters to the Duke of Norfolk and 
many another promising them Spanish money and arms for 
a rebellion. There’s a great, devilish plot. And I have it 
all here” — he tapped his chest. “Now d’ye take me? 
When Madame Queen reads what I have here she’ll not 
quarrel with me for taking toll of Spain. So I am for 
London as fast as I can ride. I thought I should be hin- 
dered here if I came openly aboard the Reckoning. The 
Spanish Embassy will have wind of me, and the Spaniards 
and their friends will be quaking for that spy of theirs and 
his letters. So there will be trouble when the Reckoning 
comes in — that’s the business of those queer folk of yours. 
And here’s your part: let none of them aboard her; let no 
man get wind of what she brings till you have word from 
me in London. Can you keep all safe?” 

“ On my own ship in Bristol harbour?” The alderman 
laughed. “ I think so ! I think so ! ’Sheart, let me see 
the man who will meddle with her! Saving the Queen’s 
writ.” 

“ They’ll not have that yet. They’ll not dare, not know- 
ing how much I know. But I doubt they’ll try your mayor 
and magistrates.” 

“ How much is the gold aboard her ? ” said the aider- 
man. 

“ A hundred thousand pezos.” 

The alderman lost his breath. 

“ A hundred thousand pezos ! My dear lad ! ” He 
chuckled. “ Us Bristow folk, we stand together. I’ll an- 
swer for Master Mayor and the bench. Oh, we’re right 
Englishmen in Bristol. My dear lad!” 

“ And so good-night to you,” quoth Captain Ryming- 


THE LONDON ROAD 


291 

towne. “ I have stayed too long ” ; and he would stay no 
moment longer, even for a toast to his ship. 

He was not, I conceive, at his best on a horse. There 
was too much bone in him for the fastest going. But, like 
several of his descendants, he could drive a horse along, 
and it appears from the record of this journey that upon 
it he did go marvellously. You understand his zeal. The 
letters of Annibale Gaddi, as you may learn from the his- 
tories, were enough to set England aflame if they reached 
those for whom they were meant. If they came to Eliza- 
beth and my Lord Burghley, some of the proudest peers 
would be attainted and struck down, and the ambassador 
of Spain would have an overwhelming charge to answer. 
No wonder that Messer Gaddi had friends anxiously wait- 
ing him in Bristol. For the Spanish Embassy had had time 
to learn that the ship by which he was coming had dared 
attack the treasure fleet of the Most Catholic King. It was 
of instant importance to many powerful persons that they 
should discover whether her captain had been prompted 
to such desperate villainy by detection of Messer Gaddi’s 
secrets. 

Captain Rymingtowne, who, save once or twice, gave his 
enemies credit for wits, appreciated this amply, and rode 
hard through the night. One thing, and one thing only 
that I can see, was in his favour. He knew the road from 
Bristol to Reading as a dog knows the way from kitchen 
to kennel. As he came by the cross-roads of Newton St. 
Leo he thought he heard horses behind him. Over the four 
miles to Bath he made sure of it, and swore according to 
his abilities. The Spanish rogues were keener than they 
had right to be. To land at Bridgewater, to steal into Bris- 
tol and out again by night, should have given him a day’s 
law. But plainly the alderman’s house had been watched, 
and the rogues had marked their quarry. 

He says that he then congratulated himself, because he 
had not trusted to himself alone; because he had landed 


292 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


another man at Bridgewater, and sent him off with other 
papers by a different road. But if I understand Captain 
Rymingtowne, there was not much congratulation of any 
one in his mind. It was entirely busy with hatred and 
malice. 

He came to Bath and knocked up the ostler at the Rose 
and Crown, and loudly proclaimed that he was tired out 
and would sleep for a week. He had hardly been lighted 
to a bare room when his pursuers rode into the yard. He 
blew out his candle and bolted his door and stole to the 
window. He heard a genial diplomatic conversation, in 
which, without asking the ostler anything direct, his pursu- 
ers learnt that a gentleman had come just before them with 
a horse near foundered, himself not much better, and gone 
to bed. They seemed satisfied. As they tramped along 
the passage to their room one tapped at his door. Dick 
grunted sleepily. There was tapping again. Then in the 
sleepiest voice he drawled out, “ Go to the devil and come 
back in the morning,’’ to which there was laughter and whis- 
pering, and then silence. They had concluded that till the 
morning he was safe, or that it was dangerous to be vio- 
lent. 

Captain Rymingtowne waited an hour and then got out 
of the window. He stole up to the ostler’s loft, waked him, 
and silenced his grumbling with a gold piece, gave another 
for the hire of a fresh horse, and was away. All through 
the night he rode without alarm, and all the next day, till 
at Reading, reeling in the saddle for lack of sleep and food, 
he judged it safe to halt. He dined vigorously and slept a 
sailor’s four hours, and was lounging out to the inn yard, 
when a smiling fellow met him with — 

“ How goes the world. Captain Rymingtowne ? ” 

“ God bless you, who is he ? ” Dick drawled, and stared 
at his man stupidly. Three other fellows with a bottle of 
wine were watching. 

The man laughed and struck him jovially on the shoulder. 


THE LONDON ROAD 


293 


‘‘ What, would you deny your name, Captain ? Why, 
what’s the matter ? ” 

“ The matter’s a maggot in your head, my lad. I be none 
of your captains.” 

“ ’Sheart, sir, you give me the lie? ” the man cried, and 
clapped hand on his sword. The fellows behind started 
up. 

‘‘ Here, drawer — here landlord ! ” Dick called. ‘‘ Here’s 
brawling ! Here’s a bully which draws sword upon me, and 
me a peaceful man with an errand to the mayor.” 

The landlord came boisterously to the rescue, protesting 
of the credit of his house, and Dick slunk away in a hurry. 
He was aware of one of the wine-drinkers following him, 
and he asked loudly of an ostler where the mayor kept 
house. 

All the way there the spy tracked him, but ventured no 
hostility. His worship the mayor was a tanner, and busy 
among his pits. Having seen Captain Rymingtowne pass 
the yard gates, the spy retired to a discreet distance. Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne found the way, looked him over, de- 
termined (so he says) that his worship was ‘‘a brisk lad 
who would do the business,” and answered a curt greeting 
with — 

Good morrow to you! Walk apart. I’ve a word for 
your ear.” 

“ Make it short, sir.” 

“ I am a sea captain, Rymingtowne to name, new come 
to Bristol after a voyage from Italy and Spain. I ride to 
London with papers for the Queen and Council — papers, 
to be short with you, worth the Queen’s own life. Now, 
sir, here are traitors and vile foreigners seeking to make an 
end of these arid me. As I came out of my inn I marked 
three or four which have pursued me from Bristol, and one 
of them tried to fix a quarrel on me. Prithee, if you be 
her Majesty’s loyal subject, lay them by the heels,” 


294 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘'What then? Will you appear against them? Will 
you swear them traitors ? ” 

“ Not L I must for London with what speed I can. 
But I would not have them after me to cut my throat and 
steal my papers as soon as I be beyond the town.” 

“ And that’s reason, too,” said the mayor, and scratched 
his head. “ But law’s law, my lad, and how can I send 
folks to gaol wi’ naught sworn against ’em?” Then he 
winked. “ But brawlers, says you? We’ll have ’em in the 
stocks for brawlers and rogues and masterless men. What, 
Robin, go call the constables, and bid ’em call the watch. 
Come in and crack a quart. Captain. We’ll give ’em a 
night and a day cooling their heels, and when they’re out 
again you’ll be safe in London.” 

“ You shall not be sorry for it,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne, and referred him to Alderman Fry and the squire 
of Assynton. 

In a little while Captain Rymingtowne passed out through 
the tanyard gates with the mayor and his posse, and saw 
the spy scud away. When they came to the inn the quar- 
relsome gentleman and his fellows were already getting to 
horse. Captain Rymingtowne pointed them out, and then 
went round the corner. There was much protest and some 
scuffling; but to threats and plaints the mayor was deaf, and 
with blows his constables dealt truculently. Captain Rym- 
ingtowne saw a company of four haled away, and was 
satisfied. But he was not quite sure that there had not been 
five in the party. He rode out of Reading meditative. 

His doubt was determined as he came through Maiden- 
head thicket. Soon after Twyford he had thought that he 
was followed. He made sure of it in the next six miles. 
But there was only one on his track, and of one he had no 
fear. He rode hard, not so much for shaking off the spy 
(which, in fact, he never did) as to make London before 
midnight. In Slough he took a fresh horse, and so did th*e 
spy. It was dark then^ or sopn after. They kept the same 


THE LONDON ROAD 


295 


pace and the same distance apart for some fifteen miles or 
more. On the London side of Brentford Captain Ryming- 
towne was surprised by the spy's passing and spurring on 
till sight and sound of him were altogether lost. He could 
not tell what to make of it. The spy might not be a spy 
after all. He was not sure of having seen the man’s face 
among the wine-drinkers. It was possible, though hardly 
credible, that his close pursuit for thirty miles was mere 
chance. Or else he thought it all he could do to make sure 
that Captain Rymingtowne was come to London, and so had 
ridden on to advise his masters. Captain Rymingtowne 
(he blames himself for this) thought no more about him, 
and rode at his ease, meditating how he would approach 
Burghley and the Queen. 

A little beyond Kensington Church some horsemen dashed 
out of a lane. Captain Rymingtowne was hardly aware of 
them before he was in the midst of them and a whirl of 
swords. He plucked at his own, he felt himself reel in 
the saddle, and all the world shook and seethed away from 
him. 


CHAPTER XXX 


BETWEEN THE SHEETS 

When he woke he was in bed. His head ached and 
throbbed, and as he moved he became aware of other pains. 
There were bandages on his head and his left arm, and he 
seemed to have bruises everywhere. As soon as he was 
completely conscious of his body he began to think. Then 
he heard a door shut, and sat up. There was no one in the 
room. It was a sombre place, lit by two of the narrowest 
windows. Wainscot and floor were dingy. No tapestry 
nor carpet nor even rushes clothed its nakedness. There 
was no more furniture than the bed and a table beside it. 
But the bed had a richness of design and comfort. The 
table was inlaid with many-coloured woods. Captain Rym- 
ingtowne was puzzled. Then it occurred to him that he 
had nothing on but his shirt. His clothes were not to be 
seen. With his clothes had gone those boasted invaluable 
papers. Captain Rymingtowne gave a grim chuckle. 

A man came softly into the room. He was of the mid- 
dle size and very neat, in blacky with white at his throat 
and wrists. He was of middle age, quiet, even stealthy 
in his movements. His face was clean shaven and pale 
and insignificant. 

“ Do I see you or do I not see you ? ’’ said Captain Rym- 
ingtowne slowly. “ Which is to say, are you or are you 
not? God help you, Tis easier to believe you are not.” 

‘‘ Have you come to your senses ? ” the man said in Eng- 
lish. 

Captain Rymingtowne laughed. 


BETWEEN THE SHEETS 


297 

“ I do think I had none for to come to, my lad. Where 
be I, if you please ? ’’ 

‘‘ Whether you live or die, it is no use to you to know 
that.’’ The man smiled. But I do not see why you 
should die.” 

God bless you ! ” said Captain Rymingtowne heartily. 

“ It is, in fact, wholly your own affair, and to us — to 
me — no matter.” 

‘‘ Thank you, to be sure,” said Captain Rymingtowne. 
“ And who are you ? ” 

The man waved his hand. 

“You will understand, sir, that no one who cares for 
your life knows you are here. Therefore, it is wholly 
agreeable to us, if you choose, that here you should die.” 

Captain Rymingtowne gaped at him. 

“ None o’ my friends knows I am here,” he repeated 
slowly. “ And so it is, to be sure. But there’s some knows 
I am not where I ought to be.” 

“ Bah, if you think it will help you to play with words ! ” 

“ God forgive you, would I play at anything with my 
head aching the way it is ? ” said Captain Rymingtowne 
plaintively. “ Hark’e — when my friends find me not 
where they look for me, they will be seeking me in likely 
places. But, maybe, you would understand better if I 
spoke Spanish.” 

The man gave no sign of discomfiture, save that it was 
a moment before he answered. 

“ Whether I am Spanish is not so muck the question as 
whether you are a fool. Consider, my friend. Your 
friends may look for you long, and not find so much as 
your grave ! ” 

“ There’ll be more graves than mine dug over this 
business,” said Captain Rymingtowne. He waited for an 
answer, and as none came at once went on more loudly — 
“Spanish? To be sure you’re Spanish, and this the am- 
bassador’s hou3e. Well, you ha’ tied yourself in a pretty 


298 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


tangle/’ He laughed. “ Ods life, I would like to know 
what you said when you found the papers on me was naught 
but copies ! ” 

The man was visibly disconcerted. Captain Ryming- 
towne’s command of his wits and the situation appeared 
to surprise him. But he recovered himself quickly. 

‘‘ For my part, sir, I said, ‘ There is no fool so foolish 
as the fool who thinks he is cunning,’ ” and with that he 
put a comfit in his mouth and smiled. 

‘‘Well, well, what would you be without your joke?” 
said Captain Rymingtowne tolerantly, and smiled back. 

There was then a pause, each gentleman waiting for the 
other to return to the point. Captain Rymingtowne waited 
the better. It is to be supposed that he had more con- 
fidence, more self-command, more conceit — what you will 
— or merely that he looked more irritating. For at last 
the man in black broke out peevishly: 

“If you think you can escape, sirrah, you deceive your- 
self.” 

“ Escape ? ” Captain Rymingtowne echoed. “ God 
bless you, how should I without any breeches ? ” 

“ Oh, you waste my time, sir ! ” 

“ So do you mine. And God, He knows how I be to 
stop you. But do I grumble? Not I. It’s a restful bed, 
and I ha’ not had one long enough this ten year.” 

“ You will play the fool, I see. I warn you, it ill suits 
your condition. Hark ye, sirrah ! You think we dare not 
touch you because you have spied on our secrets — because 
you have stolen papers of moment — because when we laid 
you by the heels we found on you only copies, and not those 
letters themselves. But it’s enough you have read the let- 
ters and know the matter of them; there’s reason enough 
we should not let you go alive, unless you will be guided 
by our will.” 

“ We, we, we,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne, imitating 
the voice of a little pig. “ Who is ‘ we,’ so please you ? 


BETWEEN THE SHEETS 


299 


The King of Spain? I make a long nose at him. Of the 
traitors he hath hired here ? To the devil with all such ! 

‘‘ You are a foul pirate, sirrah ! ’’ the man fumed. 

“ That in your teeth ! It’s your King of Spain that’s a 
black pirate, a bully, a false thief! No harm I ever did 
him till he meddled with me and mine. Now, by God’s 
heart. I’ll teach him keep his paws to himself! ” 

The man was startled by such coarse vehemence, and in 
some dismay stammered out: 

“ You brag, sirrah. You talk like a man in wine. You 
mistake your condition, indeed.” 

‘‘ Do I so ? ” Captain Rymingtowne grew more vigorous 
as the other retreated. ‘‘ There be letters signed by the 
King of Spain, enough to hang his hired traitors every one, 
and burst his vile plots and bring down bloody war upon 
him. And while you do stand blowing there they be com- 
ing to the Queen’s own hand. And naught that you can 
do can stay them. Od rot you, you thought you were 
clever when you had me knocked o’ the head! But I 
guessed you would be at some such tricks, and I sent my 
papers by a sure way.” 

Much good may it do you,” said the man angrily. 

Come, sirrah, have it as you will. Suppose the letters in 
your Queen’s hand, and her ranting and roaring in her 
fish-wife’s fashion. Suppose the headsman busy and war 
at hand. Why, then, do you think we shall be gentle in 
our revenge? If our designs be spoilt by you, be sure you 
shall not live to boast of it.” 

Captain Rymingtowne lay down in bed again. 

So be it,” said he, and stretched himself. ‘‘ A man 
has to pay for his pleasures. By God, I’ll pay what I’ve 
got for a stab at Spain ! ” 

The man seemed to find him puzzling. 

“ You make a bold front,” he confessed. “ I pay you 
the compliment not to believe in it. You are no fanatic to. 
want death when you might live. Come, sir. I’ll make you 


300 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


an offer. Give us the means to come at your messenger; 
let us get back our papers, and for the rest we may com- 
pound with you.” 

'' PlaU-ilf'^ quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ For the gold on your ship we will hold a generous ac- 
count. Any losses you can show shall be four times paid, 
and for your yielding you shall have a thousand pezos.” 

ril have what I hold and no less. You may take what 
you can and no more,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ Are you ready to die, sirrah ? ” the man sneered. 

If I can hurt you by it, my lord.” 

A moment the man looked down at him. 

‘‘You will be something less stubborn when you have 
lacked food and drink a day,” he said. 

Captain Rymingtowne shut his eyes and pretended to 
snore. Then he heard the door bang and the click of the 
lock, and was alone. 

What do you make of him? For my part, I incline to 
think he was a little light in the head. In his record of 
the ferocious conversation I seem to see signs that his sober 
judgment thought he had been a little exuberant. It is not 
that I doubt his capacity for dying rather than give in. In 
spite of his vigorous commercial instincts, he was always 
I conceive, resolute to yield nothing when his passions were 
moved, and that the machinations of Spain had moved him 
profoundly there is no doubt. But I wonder — and I think 
after it was all over he wondered — why he did not pre- 
tend to bargain with this Spanish diplomat. He would at 
least have got some breakfast by it. He might with luck 
and good management have won safe away. But doubtless 
his brain was a trifle feverish. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE ambassador’s DAUGHTER 

After the excitement he slept, at first with such turbu- 
lent dreams that he found himself again and again waking 
with a start and a cry, then more quietly without distress 
or fear. Evening sunlight was pouring in through the win- 
dows when he woke at his ease. The pain in his head was 
gone, and he laughed. Then a woman’s voice said gently — 

“ My lord the bear likes his trap ? ” 

He raised himself on his elbow, and saw a little plump 
creature smile down at him. She was vividly black and 
red and white. Her silver brocade was rich and set off her 
roundness gracefully. 

“ I suppose you could eat me raw ? ” she said, and put her 
head on one side. 

‘‘ Without sauce, my dear,’" said Captain Rymingtowne. 

She stooped, and set on the bed a little tray of food — 
a pasty and a flask of wine. 

Captain Rymingtowne considered it critically, and then 
once more the woman. 

“ Who may you be ? ” he said. 

‘‘ I am Isabella de Espes, the ambassador’s daughter — 
she made a gay curtsey — “ so please you.” 

“ You might be,” Captain Rymingtowne conceded, and 
prodded at the pasty with a fork. ‘‘ But then, what’s this ? ” 

The lady frowned, and struck a tragic attitude. 

“ Aha ! the knight-errant imprisoned smelleth poison in 
his meat! Nay, child, it will not hurt you. Eat, drink, 
and be merry.” 

“Why?” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ Because you had the sense to make friends of a friend 
301 


302 THE SEA CAPTAIN 

of mine. Do you remember Teresa de Fazardo? A sweet 
child!” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked her small person up and 
down. 

‘‘ As I remember her, she would have made two of you.” 

“ In body, good sir,” she agreed. “ But who knows the 
circumference of my soul? Teresa and I, we have loved 
each other as sisters do not ever since I broke her arm 
when she stole my Venetian doll. We were eight years 
old, my lord, and sweet angels. I am so still, indeed, but 
Teresa, you know, is married. Well, from Mercia she 
writ to me in London that if ever Captain Rymingtowne 
came near me I was to make eyes at him. The which I 
do, sire, according to my capacities.” 

Here Captain Rymingtowne began to eat. He said no 
grace. 

Isabella’s colour grew and her eyes were brighter. 

“ My good lord, I think Teresa guessed that you would 
find yourself at war with my father and Spain. Wherein 
she desired my good offices. But the truth is, I stand in 
need of yours.” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked up from his platter. 

“ God help you 1 ” he said, with his mouth full. 

She drooped a little and looked at the ground. 

“ Nay, sir, I know by Teresa’s story that you’ll not be 
cruel to a woman who seeks your aid in hard case.” 

Captain Rymingtowne, who was about his third draught 
of wine, put it down in a hurry. 

‘‘Why, how now?” quoth he. “What’s the use of a 
man with his head broke ? ” 

“ Indeed, sir, it’s this matter which broke your head,” 
she said sorrowfully. “ See, you have come by letters 
which betray a plot wherein many noble Englishmen are 
deep. Yes, and they will go to the scaffold if those letters 
reach your queen. And yet there are great and grand men 
among them, is it not ? ” 


THE AMBASSADOR’S DAUGHTER 


303 

Her Spanish accent was more marked, her phrases quaint 
as she grew plaintive. 

“ You may say so,’^ Dick said with satisfaction. 
“ There’s the Duke of Norfolk, and he holds his head high.” 

“The Duke of Norfolk!” she repeated. “Ah, sir, you 
will not be cruel! No, you are not — not for women. 
Buh I — I — oh, what if I tell you that if the Duke of 
Norfolk suffers I shall die!” 

“ Why, God ha’ mercy ! ” Captain Rymingtowne was 
honestly startled. “What’s he to you, or you to him?” 

“ Do you ask a woman what a man is to her? ” Isabella 
murmured. “ Oh, sir, you will not break my heart? You 
will save him ? ” She knelt down prettily by the bed and 
took Captain Rymingtowne’s hands. 

His face became very angular. 

“ ’Sheart, mistress ! ” he said. “ If the Duke of Norfolk 
hath meddled with your heart, a traitor he is to you as well 
as to England. For it is in those letters that he counts to 
marry the Queen of Scots.” 

Isabella buried her face in the bedclothes and her shoul- 
ders shook. 

“ But I cannot give him up,” she murmured. Dishev- 
elled hair, a flushed face were lifted close to Captain Rym- 
ingtowne. “ Ah, sir, you will do me grace ! You will stay 
those letters! You will save him which is my life.” 

Captain Rymingtowne confesses to a pause before he 
answered. 

“If he has made himself aught to you, a knave he is 
and like a knave let him die. You are well rid of him.” 

“ I will not believe it ! ” she cried. “ He could not be 
false to me.” 

Captain Rymingtowne shrugged his shoulders. 

“If he let you hope anything of him, false he is. For 
he has coveted this Scottish marriage to make him as good 
as a king.” 

“ What care I ? ” — she grew fierce. “ Did I say he had 


304 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


let me hope anything? It is I who hoped — who hoped — ” 

“ I am sorry for it/’ said Captain Rymingtowne gravely. 

She lifted her hands to him. He shook his head. She 
started up. 

“ Oh, you are hard — you are hard ! You’ll not help me, 
then? You’ll not stay the letters? You’ll have him die, 
and the saints know how many more — and for what, I 
pray you? Will you rest the happier? ” 

I did not begin the business, mistress,” said Captain 
Rymingtowne. ‘‘ I asked no better than to come quietly 
home. Spaniards forced me to strike at them; and when 
I struck, here was this plot stripped bare. I’ll not let Queen 
Bess go in danger — ay, all England — to save the necks 
of a few rich knaves that play double to be richer.” 

“Well — let them die, then!” she cried fiercely. “And 
you — you will die first. I tell you, sir, if you will not serve 
him, my father will hold you there till you rot.” 

“If ’tis to be so, so it will be,” quoth Captain Ryming- 
towne. “ It’s out of my hand now.” 

She stamped her foot. 

“ Oh, you make me rage, with your slow, cold ways I 
Look, you can go out to-night, safe, if you’ll but do our 
will.” 

Captain R3miingtowne laughed. 

“ I like my own better, my dear.” 

“You want to die, then?” she cried. “Why, have you 
nothing to hope — nothing to want? What was it Teresa 
said ? There is a woman somewhere, you have. And 
you — ” 

“ And I’ll bid you good-night, my dear,” said Captain 
Rymingtowne, and looked grim. 

She stared at him a long minute, then muttered to herself 
in Spanish — she did not know, or had forgot, that he 
understood it — “ It’s a mule she will drive, poor soul ! ” 
But he could then make nothing of that. She smiled. 

“You are hateful — do you understand?” she said. 


THE AMBASSADOR’S DAUGHTER 305 

‘‘ Teresa was perfectly right. A man — oh, no, a piece of 
wood! Well, what am I to do for you? I have no 
breeches, and you cannot go walking in your shirt.” She 
rattled on at such a pace that Captain Rymingtowne was 
altogether puzzled. “ And what would you look like in a 
petticoat? The Virgin forgive me! But I must see!” 

She fled out. 

In a little while the door opened again, and a bundle of 
clothes was thrown in. Captain Rymingtowne, to his vast 
embarrassment, found them all feminine. He could hardly 
persuade himself into them. The versatile Isabella was be- 
yond his wits. Her variations on tragic despair and flip- 
pancy seemed hardly credible, and he was consumed by a 
fear that she meant to make him ridiculous. He sat on the 
edge of the bed contemplating her petticoats with horror. 

Then the door opened again, and her head came in, and 
in Spanish she swore at him and vanished. 

For some strange reason that seems to have decided him. 
Gingerly he tied the things on — gingerly and maladroitly. 
She stole in before he was finished, and gave a stifled shriek 
and took over the business. Captain Rymingtowne records 
that after she had done the things felt less as if they were 
slipping off. He also thanked Heaven that it was twilight. 
The shoes he could not get into, so she made him pull off the 
stockings. She tied a kerchief all over his head and neck, 
and spun him round telling him he was finished. 

‘‘ And what Teresa ever saw in you,” quoth she — 
“ God help the wench! — I cannot tell. Now — remember 
— you are the washerwoman going home, and so good-e’en 
to you.” 

She thrust him out into the corridor, and on and on and 
down a narrow stairway. At the foot of it a maid servant 
waited, who plucked at him, crying, '' Here, Mother Meg, 
come on with you! Fm waiting half-an-hour.” Arm-in- 
arm they went across a stable yard, and out by a little gate 
in the wall. They were then in a dark narrow lane with 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


306 

high buildings on either hand. The maid kilted her skirts 
and hurried; but Captain Rymingtowne, who found his 
bare feet at odds with the kidney stones, was slow, and she 
objurgated. He seems to have been humble, which I 
ascribe to the petticoats. At the top of the lane Captain 
Rymingtowne beheld a wide street, by which came march- 
ing a company of the Yeomen of the Guard. The maid 
servant propelled him round the corner and fled. He asked 
the way to Whitehall, and was told that he was in the 
Strand. 

You guess, no doubt, that the Yeomen were on the way 
to ask explanations of the Spanish ambassador. The story 
of their coming is this. When Captain Rymingtowne 
landed at Bridgewater, he brought with him a youth of reso- 
lution and enterprise. Job Child, who was given the damn- 
ing letter found upon Annibale Gaddi, and bidden make 
the best of his speed by Glastonbury and Frome to Assyn- 
ton. There he was to give the packet to the squire, Mr. 
Rymingtowne, and tell how his captain, fearing ambush, 
had only taken copies with him on his way to London. The 
rest the captain left to Mr. Rymingtowne’s wits and good- 
will. 

This confidence was not, as you see, disappointed. Job 
Child did his part, and the squire of Assynton took charge. 
A glance through the letters told him how to act. He had 
dealt with plots, Italian and Spanish, before Captain Rym- 
ingtowne was breeched. He accepted no risks. He put all 
his serving men on horseback — and some one else, but that 
for a different reason. Thus adequately guarded, he 
whirled off to London. On the day after Captain Rym- 
ingtowne was waylaid by Kensington Church the letters 
came to Lord Burghley’s hands. There was matter enough 
in them to warrant any violence against the ambassador. 
Since Captain Rymingtowne had not come, it was thought 
likely that the ambassador knew why he tarried. The Yeo- 


THE AMBASSADOR’S DAUGHTER 307 

men were dispatched to search the Embassy and bring the 
ambassador to Whitehall. 

You can understand that Don Guerau would be excited 
when the Yeomen knocked at his door. He was also much 
annoyed. Burghley seems to have thought that he lost his 
temper and his head. But I do not feel that Burghley un- 
derstood his character. When the lieutenant of the Yeo- 
men announced that he was come to search the Embassy, 
and, if need be, would break down gate and door, Don 
Guerau gave orders that Captain Rymingtowne should be 
stabbed and thrown into the river. That is what moved 
Burghley’s contempt; but he was, after all, very English. 
Morality apart, it seems to have been the wisest thing to 
do. For if Captain Rymingtowne had been discovered 
wounded in the Embassy, the ambassador’s complicity in the 
plot and apprehension of wrath to come must have been 
patent, while a dead body found in the river could prove 
nothing. But the fellows sent to do the deed found, as you 
anticipate, no Captain Rymingtowne to murder. Their 
leader, who was a man of resource and feared that he 
would be blamed for the escape, thought it best to report 
to Don Guerau that they had done as they were bidden. 
Then, confident that he had abolished the chief witness 
against him, Don Guerau gave orders to let the Yeomen in. 
With a grim satisfaction, I conceive, he waited while they 
searched, and haughtily, disdainfully, breathing threats of 
his master’s vengeance, he let himself be conducted to 
Whitehall. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


CAPTAIN RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO COURT 

Captain Rymingtowne was there before him. You 
conceive the disgust of Burghley’s servants — for my lord 
was of austere manners — when a creature which, so far 
as it was distinctly like anything, seemed to be a herd 
woman or a tavern drudge, demanded instant speech of 
their master. They answered with reproachful rebukes, 
and as the creature grew insistent — it was a religious 
household — with exhortations. At last, reluctantly, they 
fetched an irritated secretary. 

“A word in your ear, my lad,” quoth Captain Ryming- 
towne, and in a whisper revealed so much that the super- 
cilious young man’s knees were loosened. Recovering 
himself he fled, and with little more delay Captain Ryming- 
towne was conducted to Burghley’s presence. 

As he went he plucked the kerchief from his head ; but I 
suppose he looked, with his bandage and his petticoats and 
his bare legs, none the more rational for that. It was 
doubtless fortunate that the squire of Assynton sat with 
Burghley waiting the issue of that expedition to the am- 
bassador’s. After a surprised glance at the amazing crea- 
ture who grinned upon him, Burghley turned to Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne. 

Is this your man, sir? ” 

But Mr. Rymingtowne was already on his feet holding 
out his hand. 

‘‘ Here’s a happy issue, sir,” he said heartily. As you 
see, my lord, this is my man.” 

Thank you for that,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne, 
gripping hard. 


308 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO COURT 309 

“ So.” Burghley tapped on the table. '' Well, sir, you 
are the man, then, who hath been practising piracy against 
Spain? ” 

Captain Rymingtowne straightened himself. 

“If we be to begin calling names, there’s some I can 
lay my tongue to.” 

Burghley looked at him sourly. He had no kindness for 
sea captains who made private wars. He was never grate- 
ful to amateurs who meddled with high policy. But at 
this moment the secretary came in a hurry to whisper that 
the Queen desired my lord’s presence and Mr. Ryming- 
towne’s. Mr. Rymingtowne smiled. 

“ Shall we take him with us ? ” — and he nodded at the 
quaint creature in petticoats. 

Burghley frowned as he gathered his papers, but once 
outside the door said severely: 

“ For what I know, she may command him.” He could 
never make his Queen as correct as he desired. 

And the truth is that in a little while an usher in the 
royal livery summoned Captain Rymingtowne. Whether 
Queen Elizabeth was more curious about the man himself 
or his adventures, or Burghley ’s brief censorious account of 
his petticoats, we need not debate; for her taste, which 
liked strong flavours in everything except wine, would relish 
all these matters ; and it is certain that when she beheld his 
big broken head, and his unfeminine shape in stomacher 
and shirt, and his bare masculine legs at the bottom thereof, 
she broke out laughing, with a — 

“ God’s body ! God’s body, here’s a chimsera ! A horrid 
monster i’ sooth! Confess, my lord, he made you quake 
in your modest shoes!” She jerked her royal elbow at 
Burghley. Leicester, the popinjay, and her bluff cousin, 
old Hunsdon, joined in her laughter. Mr. Rymingtowne 
allowed himself to smile. Burghley coughed, and the Puri- 
tan Walsingham looked down his nose. “ Well, sirrah, 
what have you been at that you look so wanton ? ” She 


310 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


chuckled, and flung herself back — like a man for all her 
jewelled hair and ruff and farthingale. 

Then Captain Rymingtowne said: 

Please, your Majesty^ knocked o’ the head by the Span- 
ish ambassador’s bullies, and locked up in his house without 
my breeches. But that’s beginning at the end.” 

Your head’s clear enough, good fellow. Begin where 
you will, o’ God’s name ! ” 

So Captain Rymingtowne told of those who came aboard 
his ship at Genoa, how he was fired upon at Cadiz, and how 
he had taken from the baggage of Annibale Gaddi the let- 
ters which betrayed the plot. 

The letters ” — Burghley took him up — ‘‘ being these ? 
You will swear to them, sir?” — and they were passed 
across the table. 

Captain Rymingtowne shuffled them. He remembered 
Isabella de Espes and her magic plea for Norfolk as her 
lover. To be sure, he had promised her nothing. He could 
not conceive that it would be anything but a happy deliver- 
ance for her if Norfolk went to the block. And yet he 
owed her what he could do. He looked at the letters, and 
gave them all back save one. 

“ I’ll swear to those,” said he ; ‘‘ but, as touching this pa- 
per — ” He hesitated, folding it one way and another. 

Burghley checked them in a hurry, and looked up. 

“ That — that is the chief piece against my lord of Nor- 
folk.” 

“How now?” the Queen cried. “What’s Norfolk to 
you, sirrah?” 

Captain Rymingtowne shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Naught and less. But maybe ’tis some use that I be 
here alive to swear to my letters.” 

“ Od’s heart ! ” The Queen laughed. “ I’ll thank thee 
■for not dying till I had a sight of thee in thy petticoats. 
What then? ” 

“ A word in your private ear, ma’am.” 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO COURT 311 

Leicester cried out Insolence! ” and there was a mut- 
ter of reproof. 

But the Queen rose, laughing. 

‘‘Well, sir, walk apart in the window; but speak mod- 
estly; I am but a maid.’’ 

So into the curtained embrasure they went, and Captain 
Rymingtowne told of Isabella and how she pled and how she 
saved him ; and the Queen clapped her hand on his shoulder, 
and swore: 

“ God’s body, a brave tale ! ” and laughed, and turned to 
Burghley. “ I did not know that Don Guerau had a daugh- 
ter.” 

“ She came from Spain last week, madame.” 

“ Last week, sirrah 1 ” the Queen echoed, turning again 
to Captain Rymingtowne. “ Then if my lord of Norfolk 
hath won her maiden heart he is something brisker than 
ever I thoug'ht him. Go to. I’ll swear she hath never seen 
him ! ” 

“ I do not understand then,” said Captain Rymingtowne 
stolidly. 

“ Why, sir, then you know little of women but their petti- 
coats. And, God guide us, not much of them neither! 
Did you ever hear tell that a girl will play on a man to see 
what stuff there is in him? Out on you for a cold fel- 
low ! I’ll not say but the wench had a notion of saving the 
knave for her father’s sake. But I’ll swear she thought 
most of making you caper. So now, sirrah, the letter.” 
Captain Rymingtowne surrendered it, something abashed. 
“ And now, since you prove so little right to them, we must 
have you out of those petticoats.” 

She clapped her hands and dismissed him to an usher, 
who gave him to some of the Chamberlain’s men. 

Now while Captain Rymingtowne was getting into 
breeches, Don Guerau was brought to Whitehall and the 
Queen’s cabinet. He entered with an explosion. The 
majesty of Spain was outraged. His person and his house, 


312 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


sacred by all laws human and divine, had suffered violence. 
Spain would know how to avenge him. 

The Queen looked at Burghley, who said; 

‘‘To which, sir, you well know the answer: that you have 
abused the right of your office. I shall briefly show it to 
your confusion. But first I accuse you of violence to the 
Queen’s liegeman. Captain Rymingtowne.” 

“ The pirate ? ” said Don Guerau coldly. “ Is he back in 
England? Then I advise you to take order that he make 
swift acquaintance with the hangman. For my master will 
be satisfied with no less.” 

“ Satisfied ! ” Burghley sneered. “ Ay, your good faith 
craves satisfaction.” 

But the Queen broke out : 

“ Hangman, quotha ! And who made you hangman in 
England, sirrah?” 

Don Guerau drew himself up. 

“ Your dignity, madame, is in your own hand. You 
will not so diminish my master’s.” 

“ Why, I suppose your house knows nothing of Captain 
Rymingtowne ? ” said Burghley. 

“ You had best ask your own guardsmen, my lord.” 

“ Ay, ay. They found nothing, I hear. We must look 
for him otherwhere. You cannot tell us where to 
seek ? ” 

“ My lord, I should demean myself to answer your in- 
sults.” 

“ You have taken no order about Captain Ryming- 
towne ? ” Burghley insisted. 

“ My lord, I leave your own knaves to you.” 

And then the Queen said : 

“ Bring the good captain.” 

Don Guerau, for all his years of diplomacy, was visibly 
startled. After a moment he put on an air of careless de- 
fiance, but there was effort in it. Captain Rymingtowne 
came in. He was now inside a sedate doublet and hose. 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO COURT 313 

and the bandage had gone from his head. He made his 
best bow, which was, I conceive, not beautiful. 

Here is your man, sir,” the Queen cried. “ Will you 
brazen it more ? Did you never seek to murder him ? Did 
you never threaten him with death if he would not keep 
your plots secret? God’s death, speak truth at last! ” 

Don Guerau, who believed Captain Rymingtowne safe in 
the Thames, who could not be sure whether this was the 
man or a sham, was in some difficulty. But he did well 
enough. 

‘Hf this be the pirate,” he said coldly, ‘‘ I claim justice on 
him. For your Majesty’s words, I know not what wild 
tale you are cheated with.” 

“Justice!” the Queen thundered. ‘‘Ay, sir, you shall 
have justice before all Christendom. Back to your house, 
and there you rest under guard till we have taken order 
with your hellish plots. See to it, my lord. Get you gone, 
sir.” 

“ My master, madanie, will know how to answer this.” 

“ By God, it will tax his wits ! ” the Queen said. 

With a shrug for her coarse manners, Don Guerau went 
his way. 

For a moment the Queen beat on the table, frowning; 
then with a grim smile she looked up at Captain Ryming- 
towne. 

“ Well, sirrah, you have managed your business prettily. 
Here be storms to uphold you in your piracies.” 

“ By your good leave, ma’am,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne, “ there is no piracy to it, for I never put a hand to 
their treasure ships till I found them plotting bloody murder 
against you.” 

“ Ay, you’re a saint,” she laughed. “ And how much 
Spanish gold is there aboard your ship in Bristol ? ” 

“ Fll be blithe to give account to your officers, ma’am.” 

“ Nay, if we’re to make accounts with you, God help 
us! ” she cried in high good humour. I suppose they un- 


314 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


derstood each other very well. There was a certain tiara 
of emeralds which came afterwards to her royal head. Not 
without gossip. “ Well, go to — away with you for a 
rogue! We must go into these mysteries of yours.” She 
tapped the letters. 

Then Mr. Rymingtowne took Captain Rymingtowne to 
find his daughter Mary. For she had chosen to come to 
Court with that hurrying company of his. What made 
her do it I do not find anywhere explained. But it seems 
that when Captain Rymingtowne came to her in a corner of 
the hall, he found her alone and pale and anxious-eyed, and 
his coming made her start up and sink down again trem- 
bling. 

“ Good morrow to you,” said Captain Rymingtowne ; and 
at that she began to laugh queerly. 

“To be sure,” said a gay voice behind them — “ you do 
look better in breeches.” Captain Rymingtowne jumped 
round to see Isabella de Espes. “ God speed you, sir,” said 
she with a curtsey. “ So that ” — she nodded her round 
head at Mistress Rymingtowne — “ that is why you were so 
cold to me. Til not say but you have taste. Madame, give 
you joy of him. He is a faithful soul — for a man. Or 
my small self is not long enough temptation. Who knows? 
For by what I hear Teresa had more luck with him. And 
now good-night to you. They tell me I must be locked up 
with my father — poor gentleman 1 ” Away she flitted, 
but turned again to whisper in Mary’s ear : “ My dear, it’s 

a mule to drive. But try coaxing.” 

But Captain Rymingtowne found that Mary’s eyes looked 
at him with a difference. He found it hard to explain to 
her that her suspicions did him wrong. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE BEST OF THREE 

Mary Rymingtowne was giving her father continual 
pain. He possessed no ear for music. 

Through all her completed twenty-two years of life this 
deficiency had never bred trouble between them. She early 
discovered that she had a sweet, small voice, and enjoyed 
using it, but not with such passion that she could not re- 
strain herself when her father was near. (All her passions, 
indeed, were austerely controlled.) On the other side, it 
seems that he learnt to listen calmly and even with content 
when she sang grave things, so long as she was on the other 
side of a wall or the garden. He admitted pleasure in and 
professed to remember the tunes of a few Latin hymns. 

But now she was singing all day and everywhere. Or 
when she was not singing she was rushing and boisterous 
and entertaining half Berkshire at Assynton. Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne, who loved, next to his daughter, astronomy and 
peace, and his own kind not a jot more than a Christian 
must, was distracted. But he preferred company to her 
singing. For that had become flamboyantly jovial. You 
conceive him starting with a petulant exclamation from his 
map of the stars, when after two amorous ditties had risen 
out of the rose pleasaunce, he heard this come defiantly: 

By a bank as I lay 
Musing myself alone, 

Hey ho! 

A birde’s voice 
Did me rejoice, 

315 


3i6 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Singing before the day. 

And, methought, in her lay, 

She said, “ Winter was past! ’’ 

Hey ho! Dan dyry cum dan. 

Mr. Rymingtowne, aware that he would not be able to 
think till there was an end of this, walked to the window 
and looked out cynically upon the dawn-cloud beauty of 
his apple orchard. 

Then he made the sound which is written Pshaw ! ” A 
young fellow was coming through the trees, and Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne had no illusions as to whom he came to see. 
There was nothing to object to in Arthur Gower, a youth 
well born, well endowed, and without reproach among 
women or men. But Mary was still singing: 

Awake, therefore, young men! 

All ye that Lovers be! 

Hey ho! 

This month of May, 

So fresh, so gay ! 

So fair be field or hill: 

Doth flourish every Jill: 

Great joy it is to see! 

Hey ho! Dan dyry cum dan! 

‘‘ Pshaw ! ” said Mr. Rymingtowne. It was wholly in- 
convenient that any gentleman of ambitions should find 
such music on his daughter’s lips. 

He acquitted her of intention. And then was not sure 
of what he could acquit her. He seemed of late to have 
lost her nature. Once he had been as sure of her as of 
his firm set self; sure that she was in the very heart sin- 
cere, earnest and critical, a woman born to feel deeply or to 
feel nothing, for a life of great passion and genial con- 
tempt. And behold she was developed into something like 
a common Court lady, greedy of noise and show, happy in 
making men bold with her, and being bold with men. 


THE BEST OF THREE 


317 


I do not suppose that Mary Rymingtowne could have 
explained herself. I am sure that to her father she never 
tried. But with the amassed wisdom of the three hundred 
years since she lived it is not difficult to read her riddle. 
From the moment when she was first aware of womanhood 
waking within her she had never been able to free herself 
from the memory, the vision, of the body and mind of one 
man — Dick Rymingtowne, shepherd boy and sea captain. 
There was certainly something of fear in her emotions 
about him, for she always felt him rough and cunning and 
fierce. I account her adventure with my Lord Branscombe 
caused not so much by that decorated person’s urgency as 
by her own desire to find refuge in some man, in any man, 
from the grim obsession of her soul. After she failed, after 
Captain Rymingtowne came down upon her again, he was 
more tyrannical than ever. She was certainly a woman 
born to be in earnest. She could not escape from him and 
herself by inventing some easy fashion of life. The very 
length of years that he kept her waiting while he won 
wealth according to his desire, made her passion stronger, 
till when he came back in a blaze of glory and danger she 
was ready to cast herself down before him. 

But she was prevented. Not Captain Rymingtowne, not 
any man of woman born, had the strength to break her 
pride. It is plain that she would have died rather than 
yield anything of her life to a man who kept something of 
himself from her. Less than all of him would be to her 
mind less than nothing. Any suspicion that she loved him 
more than he loved her, wanted him more than she was 
wanted, tormented her into strange transformations to 
show him and all the world her disdain. 

Then it happened that Captain Rymingtowne came back 
amid a whole army of circumstances and rumours hinting 
him the hero of many ladies. To the tender devotion of 
one, it was certain, he owed his escape from the trap of 
the Spanish ambassador. Doubtless the poor woman was 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


318 

not to blame. She carried it off Well and gaily. But Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne had found her very useful and Captain 
Rymingtowne was shy of talking about her. And not only 
of talk about her. There was her cousin. Perhaps it was 
to slur over herself that the lady hinted of Captain Rym- 
ingtowne being something more than friends with cousin 
Teresa. But some adventure had involved him and Ma- 
dame Teresa and what it was he could not find time to 
tell. And Mistress Teresa was not the end of it either. 
One might neglect the strange things rumour had to say 
of his passages with Julia Gonzaga. But how should a girl 
answer when rumour asked what the woman was doing 
aboard his ship at Cadiz, the woman whose death, so ru- 
mour said, set him fighting Spain in a passion of revenge? 

Captain Rymingtowne was a man, as you know, singu- 
larly aloof from casual amours. It can never have oc- 
curred to him that his lady of Assynton would think him 
other, but Mary Rymingtowne, though even then she knew 
the soul of him through and through, did not know that 
she knew it, and was shamefully aware that of his ways 
and his habits and five years of his life she knew almost 
nothing. Therefore she half believed in these fabled ro- 
mances. Moreover — and if it was not as black a sin it 
was more irritating — Captain Rymingtowne showed no 
zeal in wooing. That he should have expected her at his 
command to wait him faithfully without a word, year in 
year out, till he chose to come and take her, was oddly ex- 
citing indeed, but only to be borne if, when he came at last, 
he was on fire for her. But he seemed to be only on fire 
for his money. She was in London to meet him, and he 
was so busy with the Queen and the Lords of Council that 
he had hardly moments to spare for her. She went back to 
Assynton, and, instead of pursuing her, he was at Bristol 
about his ship and the Spanish treasure aboard her, and to 
and fro between Bristol and London through month after 
month. 


THE BEST OF THREE 


319 

Such are the mistakes of the mind conscious of its own 
rectitude. 

So Mary Rymingtowne found it necessary to prove to 
all the world and herself that she was in the highest spirits; 
that all she wanted of life was a rush of fine shows and 
noisy laughter; that she cared for no man on earth enough 
to be serious a moment ; that she was ready to play with any 
man who had looks and brains and would be enticed to 
play with her. I do not defend her. I will believe, if you 
like, that there were minutes or more when she despised 
herself bitterly, and I’ll not say when she was wrong. This 
is what she did and why she did it, and her father was dis- 
tracted. 

But Mr. Arthur Gower, to his intimates, boasted of her 
as a splendid creature of delight, a golden girl, and courted 
her with all his looks, which were good, and all his graces, 
which were showy, and all his wits, which were well enough 
for a lad born to fortune. He was, in fine, a pleasant fel- 
low, outside and in, with a well-turned leg and a good pair 
of shoulders, and a cold blue eye, which laughed at every 
one but himself, and a little beard, of which he was as proud 
as his other endowments. Perhaps with as good reason. 
So he served Mary Rymingtowne’s purpose excellently well. 

Into the rose pleasaunce he came smiling, and Mary 
laughed and made him a curtsey so low and long that she 
seemed to be sitting in the midst of a sea of apple-green 
skirts. He bowed again and melodiously echoed her own 
song: 

So fresh! So gay! 

So fair be field or hill : 

Doth flourish every Jill: 

Great joy it is to see 

Hey ho! Dan dyry cum dan. 

‘‘ ‘ Hath flourished every Jill,’ indeed. ' Great joy it is 
to see.’ ” 


320 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Fie, sir ! you are too bold — for a stranger.” She gave 
him a look of mocking invitation. 

‘‘ A stranger, am I? ” He took her hand with an air of 
affectionate right. “Why, then, who is nearer?” 

“ Whoever is dearer, good sir,” said she. 

“ I do not believe in him,” said Arthur Gower compla- 
cently. “ If I did, some one must needs bleed for it.” 

“ Oh ! ” She made a teasing mouth. “ Here be terrors ! 
And, prithee, my good lord, by what right should you go 
blood-letting for my glory ? ” 

“ Not for your glory,” quoth he, “ but for my ambitions, 
which are there.” He touched her breast lightly. 

“ Ambitions ! ” She pulled her face awry. “ There's a 
man’s word! But by your leave, if you have forgot my 
hand, I have not.” With which she took it away from him. 

“ Nor I neither. I was but proclaiming myself to my 
realm.” 

She shook her head. 

“ You are no more than a pretender. And I give you 
surety there is no part of me which takes your part.” 

“ \^at, none, Mary ? ” 

He put his hand on her shoulder, and looked down into 
her eyes with some passion, I believe — no doubt with some- 
thing of command ; but she saw also a genial condescension, 
such as is natural from an able young gentleman to a 
woman. 

“ My modest thanks for your favours, sir,” she laughed. 
“ I profess you are very useful to ride with — which, if I 
remember, is why you are here.” 

“ It is the excuse,” Mr. Gower smiled, and let her go. 

You conceive him thinking that it was best to humour the 
pretty creature’s coyness ; which, to be sure, was very 
proper in her. She ought to be something afraid of him. 

“ Well, let us ride, then. The time will go quicker.” 

With a laugh she turned from him and caught up her 
skirt and ran. It was a comely sight, but Mr. Gower fol- 


THE BEST OF THREE 


321 

lowed soberly. He doubted if her last phrase was quite 
respectful. 

She led him, then, a gallop down the avenue of beeches. 
Mr. Gower recovered his spirits. He liked to see the pretty 
creature showing her strength. I suppose if she had not 
held her own on horseback he would have cared nothing 
about her. He had a wholesome taste. 

As they came to the swell of the downs and reined in to 
a walk they were met by another horseman. He plainly 
affected the bizarre as earnestly as Arthur Gower the per- 
fect courtier. He was all in black, save for a blazing scar- 
let feather. His horse was a black Arab, with its mane 
tied and twisted into love-locks by scarlet ribbons. His 
black beard had a curl at the point, which succeeded very 
well in looking artificial. He was as lean as a line by na- 
ture, and his narrow face, perhaps not by nature, was dead 
white. You recognise again my Lord Branscombe. 

It had taken my lord a long while to find his way back 
to Berkshire. When first he ran away to France he con- 
ceived that England was closed against him for ever. He 
could not easily bring himself to believe that council and 
Queen had never heard of his important treasons, that no 
one in England cared what he was doing or where he did 
it, that he was in fine wholly insignificant. When that hu- 
miliating truth was forced upon him, his emotions were 
complex. He experienced a grateful relief from fear. He 
had been continually conceiving it possible that Elizabeth’s 
vengeance might strike at him in Paris, if not at his life, 
at his opulence, at his estates and the revenues which fil- 
tered to his exile. He would have been very glad to feel 
safe if he had not felt ashamed of being ridiculous. He 
imagined three counties at the least laughing at him. He 
was consumed with spite against Captain Rymingtowne 
who had made a fool of him and the girl who had watched 
the process. So when he did come back to England he 
avoided for a long while the home of his ancestors and all 


322 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


the west country. He was not easily convinced that Berk- 
shire and Wiltshire neither laughed at him nor thought of 
him. I suppose he never did believe that Captain Ryming- 
towne had kept the tale to himself. My Lord Branscombe 
was not constructed to imagine a man who could tell of an- 
other’s folly and cowardice neglecting his chance. When at 
last he did come back it was Captain Rymingtowne’s return 
that brought him. It was the hope of an occasion to re- 
venge himself on the coarse sea captain and that blowsy girl 
of his. A subtle fellow, and my Lord Branscombe believed 
himself the most subtle of all Italianate gentlemen, could 
surely do the pair some damage and there would be most 
savour to it when they were hot for each other’s arms. So 
he came back to his house at Barbury and to convince the 
honest squires about him that he was no laughing matter 
he affected great state and an awful iniquity. They seem 
to have thought him a tiresome fool. 

In this character of a voluptuary from the devil he cara- 
coled up to Mary and her gallant. 

Good morrow to youth and innocence,” said he and 
smiled as Satanically as he was able. 

Mary Rymingtowne betrayed some natural surprise which 
my lord construed as alarm and was well pleased. 

“ Good morrow old gentleman,” Arthur Gower laughed 
and then in loud confidence to Mary: ‘‘Faith it’s the old- 
est lad of twenty-five ever I saw.” Mary smiled nervously. 

“ I like your taste in men, madame,” said Branscombe, 
“ for there’s the simplest baby that ever grew a beard. But 
will you ever rear him? Well, perhaps it’s best he should 
die before he can talk. So shall you be spared disappoint- 
ment.” 

“ Nay, how can there be disappointment in a world which 
contains my Lord Branscombe ? ” Mary smiled. 

“ Who could never cheat expectation by holding his 
tongue two minutes. A comfortable noise, faith, he is — 


THE BEST OF THREE 


3^3 

like music at dinner. You mark none of it, yet you miss it 
when it is not there.’’ 

Edepol! The child hath ambitions after wit ! ” quoth 
Branscombe. ‘‘ May the Muses have pity on him ! But I 
do give you joy of your new plaything, madame. For he’ll 
never bite nor scratch like the old one, who, indeed, is now 
leaving his marks on other pretty fools.” Mary looked 
haughtily away, but her cheeks were red. My lord shrugged 
his shoulders. ‘‘What would you? They are mutable, 
these cubs, and infinitely greedy. You should not expect 
that they will always feed from the same platter.” 

Arthur conceived it his honourable duty to intervene. 

“ My lord, you are well enough in cap and bells. When 
you try to be subtler than my lady’s fool should be, you 
grow tiresome.” 

“ Dear lad ! ” said Branscombe affectionately. “ And 
did you think you were madame’s first? I suppose so. 
Even as she conceived she must be first and last with her 
beery sea captain. 'Hercle! If there be a duller thing than 
man, it is certainly woman. Or how should the hulking 
mariner ever find so many doxies to take his tarry hand? 
But I rememher once in Rome — ” 

Mary made an exclamation. 

“ And you remember once in Berkshire how Captain 
Rymingtowne made a fool of you. Oh, I know it gave 
him no trouble, my lord. But I have no liking for your 
revenge.” 

Branscombe showed his teeth. 

“ Poor girl ! ” he said with a malicious sigh. “ I was 
afraid that you still had hopes of your clumsy Ulysses. 
But I do not advise you to be as faithful as Penelope. For 
your hero has found too many Circes abroad and at home. 
Though, to be sure, he needed none to turn him into a hog.” 

Here Arthur rode round from Mary’s left hand and 
tapped my lord on the shoulder with his whip. 


324 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


‘‘ It’s not in my recollection that Mistress Ryming- 
towne bade you be of her company.” 

“ Oh, my dear lad ! ” Branscombe laughed. “ I know I 
am out of date. I am a flame of yesteryear. But what 
though ? It is a little amusing to come watch the new flame 
languish. You are as comical as anything I know in this 
dull world. But, pardon, mon bel ami, I have now had 
enough of you.” He spurred his horse arid rode ahead; 
then, turning in the saddle, called : “ Be of good cheer, 

mistress. The mariner may come back to you when he is 
tired.” 

It would certainly be unjust to Arthur Gower if there 
were no record that he nearly went galloping after my 
lord; perhaps if he had, you would like him better. But 
he was, according to his lights, the perfect courtier, and it 
was impossible for him to be so natural as to brawl in 
woman’s presence, even for the chastening of a man who 
was impudent to her. 

So he made her a bow; and said : 

“ A thousand pardons, madame. I am ashamed that you 
should be troubled by so base a fellow. But be sure that I 
will take order with him. He shall be taught that he of- 
fends you at peril of his life. I entreat you, think of him 
no more ; it’s a dog which hath learnt all the ill-breeding of 
France and Italy, yet lost none of his native English.” 

“ I do not think of him,” she said. But she was still 
flushed and her bosom restless. “ Will you challenge 
him? ” 

It is not my habit to turn the other cheek to impu- 
dence,” he said magnificently. 

She drew a long breath. She made him no answer. 
After a while he looked at her and saw a tear on her cheek. 

“ Nay, faith, madame,” he cried, “ you wrong yourself to 
let him have power to wound you. What’s he to you or — ” 
He made a gesture of disdain. 

She stared and looked at him quickly. 


THE BEST OF THREE 


325 


‘‘Or?” she repeated. “You said, ‘or,’ Mr. Gower?” 

“ Why, then — or this boor of his dull taunts. To be 
sure they are well matched — a tedious buffoon and a boor 
who sells the plots of his light o’ loves and — ” 

“ I do not think you know the gentleman, Mr. Gower.” 

Mr. Gower laughed. 

“ Why, God ha’ mercy, no ! A shepherd boy turned 
mariner, who used one woman to help him to piracies and 
another to sell plots. I know no more of him than all the 
world knows. He is something beneath us, I think.” And 
he cocked his hat. 

“ Let us go home,” Mary said. 

On the way, Gower, who piqued himself on his knowl- 
edge of women, was careful to abstain from any show of 
wooing. He was very witty and fanciful, and he compelled 
her often to laughter, and felt wholly satisfied. 

But when they came to the door of Assynton Manor and 
Mr. Rymingtowne walked out to receive them he had his 
hand on the shoulder of the sea captain. The two on horse- 
back exhibited emotions. Mary’s face was white. Arthur 
Gower became as stiff and still as a cavalier of bronze. 

The sea captain stared, wholly impassive, at them both. 
Only Mr. Rymingtowne seemed happy. 

“ I think you do not know Mr. Gower, Dick. You have 
heard the fame of our Berkshire High Admiral, Gower. 
I must procure you his better acquaintance. Ride over and 
dine with us on a day next week.” 

The sea captain nodded at Mr. Gower. Mr. Gower made 
a salute of coldest state. He was horrified at Mr. Ryming- 
towne’s awkwardness. To present him — a Gower of 
Dancey, him, a courtier of the finest gold — to this boor of 
a pirate as a humble aspirant for acquaintance was intoler- 
able, almost incredible. And in conclusion a hint to stay 
away for a week ! 

“ You do me too much honour, sir,” he said in his most 
wounding manner. “Madame, your faithful servant. 


326 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Mr. Rymingtowne, I thank you.’' His bows were nicely 
graduated. “ Sir,” he touched his hat to the sea captain 
and rode off. 

Mary Rymingtowne slipped to the ground, and with an 
I give you good day, sir,” into the house. 

The sea captain turned on his heel and followed her close. 
Mr. Rymingtowne, smiling in his white beard, lounged away 
after Mary’s horse and groom. By the foot of the stairs 
the sea captain came up with Mary, and put his hand on her 
shoulder from behind, and stopped and pulled her round. 
She gazed a moment fierce and surprised. Then he took 
her in his arms. 

She was unyielding, but she did not struggle. Her face 
was cold and hard. 

This is base, sir,” she said. I must needs tell my 
father to forbid you my presence.” 

Dick laughed. 

‘‘ Have words been for much ’twixt you and me ? ” and 
he kissed her. 

At that, with the sudden strength of rage she forced her- 
self away and stood panting out : 

‘‘Go, go! You are loathsome.” 

“To be sure, I knew you were not as cold as you made 
believe,” said Dick. 

“ Oh ! . . .” She struggled with feelings that could not 
be spoken. “ How you make me despise you ! ” She 
turned from him quivering, and had her foot on the stair 
again when he caught her wrist. 

“Despise me, do you?” he said. “That’s new. And 
why, if you please?” 

“ Why ? ” she began to laugh contempt and excitement. 
“ Oh, yes, you need to ask! Why should I not be grateful 
to be a toy for you, a fool, a dupe? What other use is a 
woman to you ? ” 

The sea captain was unabashed. 


THE BEST OF THREE 


327 


“Well, I ha^ known you duped by other men; and you 
are not so wise as you might be yet. But I’m always for 
opening your eyes; and you know it, my girl.” 

“ Oh, you are not to be borne ! ” she cried, and, indeed, 
his manner did not mitigate what he said. “ I tell you, sir, 
your insolence may serve you with others, but I — ” 

“ Others ? ” he took her up sharply — “ others ? Ay, 
now we come to it. Who talks of others, my girl? ” 

She was ashamed of herself. She was miserably aware 
that she had lost her dignity. So she grew the more angry 
and went deeper in the mire. 

“ Yes, indeed, you should be lofty, you should put me to 
question. Do you forget the Spanish woman in London? 
Do you think I hear nothing, guess nothing? And you — 
you dare come back now to make me a mock ! ” 

“ Ay, ay,” said Captain Rymingtowne. “ There’s them 
that talks, is there? But, by God! who bade you listen? 
Look you, my girl: no woman’s the worse for me. What 
be you that I should have to tell you so? And for them 
that have been talking — good day to you 1 ” 

For a moment she could hardly believe that he was gone. 
He left her, as you may conceive, in a tumult of emotions. 
She hated him, of course, and hated herself more. She 
repeated, as though it were a charm, that he was a rogue 
and a boor, and all the while raged against him for so leav- 
ing her. She was full of fears, and strange, thrilling hopes 
of delight. And so she hid herself from her father, and 
especially her maid. 

When the maid was sent by her father to ask if she was 
to be seen at supper, she was sufficiently composed to wash 
her face and meet him. He began very amiably; said that 
he was glad to have Diccon safe back in Berkshire, and 
with that obeisance to convention diverged from the sea 
captain as from a creature indifferent, and began to talk 
of trout and lambs. On these matters Mary was suffi- 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


328 

ciently at ease, and so she ate more than she had imagined 
possible. It was not till she had made an end that Mr. 
Rymingtowne allowed himself to embarrass her. 

“ I thought you would have kept Master Dick to supper,’’ 
he said, carelessly blind to the blush that overwhelmed her. 

Well, perhaps I hoped. A good fellow.” 

In a hurry Mary contrived to say : 

I am sure I could neither make him stay nor go.” 

It was only by a moment’s silence and lifted eyebrows 
that her father answered that. Then he appeared to medi- 
tate aloud: 

‘‘ To be sure, he is not a man for young tastes, which like 
sweetness. And when a man lets them see he hath a mind 
for crafty contrivance and the base material, they are apt 
to think him a monstrous villain. For my part, I do more 
mistrust your chevalier sans reproche, your very honourable 
gentleman, your woman immaculate, who may have any- 
thing behind the fair outside — or nothing. At least there’s 
strength in a man who’s not afraid to show you his sinner- 
ship. And as life goes he is likely to be less meanly a sinner 
than the rest of us.” He broke off and sipped his watered 
wine. ‘‘ Poor Diccon ! Here am I slicing his soul up, who 
have not half the sincerity of him. Faith, it’s a man to say 
prayers for! The power of life in him makes you live a 
world more ardently ” — Mr. Rymingtowne chuckled gently 
— “as comical as he is.” 

Mary, who had been looking at her plate with eyes that 
glowed through a mist, started, and “ Comical ? ” she said 
sharply. “ I am sure I never found him comical at all.” 

“ The dear lad is so fond of trying for a shudder,” Mr. 
Rymingtowne explained. “ It’s a silly child after all, God 
bless him ! ” 

“ Silly ! ” said Mary with indignation. “ I am sure he is 
anything but that.” 


THE BEST OF THREE 329 

In the way of sweet innocence, I mean,’' said Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne. I think it is chiefly why I like him.” 

You will be talking,” Mary cried, and rose. Mr. Rym- 
ingtowne held the door for her with humility. When he 
came back to his wine he was much amused. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


CAPTAIN RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 

I SEE in the ensuing actions of the sea captain a large di- 
vergence from his habitual reasonable condition. It is pos- 
sible that he was equally aware of this; that his ^extravagant 
heroics were precisely calculated for the edification of Mary 
Rymingtowne. But I think not. He was, I conceive, in a 
great passion. The stress of waiting, now the time of wait- 
ing was near an end, fretted his placid reason away. For 
his own comfort he was compelled to something sudden and 
violent. In fine, he wanted to make a fool of himself. 

There was a tavern in Whitbury of reputation, a tavern 
much used by the gentry from twelve miles round, and 
hardly civil to other creatures. On the next day after din- 
ner Captain Rymingtowne rode into its courtyard and dis- 
mounted and climbed to the great room over the archway, 
where a round dozen young gentlemen of importance were 
being witty over their wine. 

He was, of course, recognised. Half England was then 
talking of him, and in his own vale of Assynton and there- 
about they talked of little else; of his very base birth, of his 
fame for folly when he was a shepherd boy, of his incredi- 
ble exploits at sea, and how marvellous or how villainous it 
was that he should come home richer than all the county. 

He was not greeted. Famous, infamous or unknown, 
rich or poor, he had no right in that tavern till he was bid- 
den. If he did not know as much, his very ignorance 
proved him unfit for its august society. But he was not 
insulted. It is, perhaps, conceivable that the noble young 
gentlemen had some hesitation in quarrelling with a man 

330 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES. TO SCHOOL 331 

who had so much wealth behind him. But we may be 
kind and find the reason of their self-restraint in his known 
high favour at Court. 

So no one said anything to Captain Rymingtowne, good 
or bad. He looked at his leisure round the room with its 
neat devices in wainscot and hose, its decoration of fra- 
grant boughs and herbs and beards and wine, and picked 
out his man. Arthur Gower sat a little apart from the rest 
with another as well-dressed as himself, his friend Walter 
Mill, of Walford. He was waiting for my Lord Brans- 
combe. To his amazement Captain Rymingtowne marched 
up to him and said : 

‘‘ At your service, Mr. Arthur Gower.’’ 

Gower looked him over with cool contempt. 

“ I have nothing for you, sir,” and turned in his chair. 

‘‘ What, nothing to my face ? Then you have too much 
behind my back.” 

Gower turned again. 

‘‘ Is it possible that you dare to fix some quarrel upon 
me?” 

“You began the quarrel, my lad — in the dark, and me 
not there. Will you face it out, or ask pardon?” 

Gower looked at his friend and laughed. 

“ Sure, the fellow is in wine.” 

Mr. Mill shrugged. 

“ Bid him go back to his farmyard. 

Captain Rymingtowne took a step forward and at his 
side a man — Roger Evesham, of Roding St. Neots — 
stood up. For the sea captain’s angular face was flushed 
and fierce, and there was menace in the pose of his heavy 
frame, and Mr. Evesham, who seems to have had the quick- 
est mind in the room, apprehended a brawl. But it did not 
then come. 

“ You ha’ spoke ill of me behind my back, Mr. Arthur 
Gower. Will you make it good? ” 

Gower laughed at him. 


332 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ So ! Then I’ll tell you you lied. Can you understand 
that, my lad ? ” 

Gower sprang to his feet. 

‘‘ It is well for you you are but a boor, sirrah. Else I 
would teach you with my sword what you shall learn of a 
horsewhip.” 

Captain Rymingtowne laughed. 

“ My pretty lad, I should flay the flesh off you at that 
game,” and it seems that Mr. Evesham and some others 
smiled, for the sea captain was so much the larger man. 

Nothing was more likely to annoy Arthur Gower. He 
flushed and said sharply: 

“ Since you will be punished, you shall, sir. I have at the 
moment another affair. My friend shall wait on you. 
Where are you to be found ? ” 

‘‘Wait, wait!” Captain Rymingtowne sneered. “I ha’ 
no mind to wait, my lad I ” 

“Well crowed, rooster!” said a mocking voice behind 
them. “To it again, bantam! ” 

The two angry men started round to see Lord Brans- 
combe’s feebly satanic smile. 

“ By your leave, sir,” said Arthur Gower sharply, and 
strode up to him. “ I have been waiting for you, my lord.” 

But Captain Rymingtowne came close behind him. 

Merci, monsieur!” Branscombe laughed. “ ’Tis as 
pretty a cockfight as ever I saw. But why not have your 
hen to cluck over it ? ” 

“ Enough of your wit, my lord,” Gower began, but Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne thrust in front of him and knocked my 
lord down. 

In Branscombe’s defence, it is to be said that he had 
never felt a blow in all his life — even from nurse or tutor 
or parent. He was the only son of his mother. But he 
lay dazed while over him Captain Rymingtowne said: 

“ I saved you a hanging once. The more fool me. Get 
up, you dog, and let me stick you.” 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 333 

Slowly Branscombe lifted himself up. He addressed the 
room. 

You keep strange company, gentlemen. Here’s one 
who has strayed from the stables. I’ll call my grooms to 
him and relieve you.” 

The sea captain caught him as he turned away. 

‘‘ Will you fight, you rogue ? ” 

Branscombe fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crown. 

‘‘ Prithee, good fellow, buy thyself a pint and be gone. 
I had forgot I owed it thee.” 

He looked round the room laughing nervously, but saw 
no support. 

Captain Rymingtowne flung him away so that he fell 
against the table. 

“ You ha’ had your chance, my lord coward, and it was 
too good for you. If ever you meet me again I’ll handle 
you as I ha’ handled you this day.” 

“ I’ll provide my grooms stout whips,” Branscombe 
cried. 

‘‘ Nay, my dear, you’ll run away to France again,” Cap- 
tain Rymingtowne grinned. Unless there’s another fel- 
low there waiting to thrash you.” 

Branscombe made for the door, but Arthur Gower pur- 
sued him. 

‘‘ My affair is not so answered, my lord.” 

Branscombe thrust him petulantly away. 

“ I do not fight boors and boys ; nor even a gentleman for 
such a woman as your lean hen. Go to ; you may make her 
cackle all day long for what I care.” 

So gallantly he plunged out, and if you care to know, 
back to France he went, where one of Mayenne’s Lorrain- 
ers in a quarrel about the price of a silver crucifix — Brans- 
combe was close with his money — flung him into the Seine 
and shot him as he came to the surface. 

Captain Rymingtowne and Arthur Gower were face to 
face again. 


334 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ Now, sir — now,’’ Gower cried, ‘‘ since you have so 
mishandled my affair, I am for you heartily.” 

‘‘That’s as may be,” said Captain Rymingtowne slowly. 
“ I did not know that fool was still hereabout and veno- 
mous. Maybe it’s he which miscalled me. If you do tell 
me you ha’ done me no wrong, I’ll believe you and be sat- 
isfied.” 

Gower laughed fiercely. 

“ Oh, you’ll believe me ! I admire your impudence. 
Come, sir, it seems you are not so ready when a brawl will 
not end the matter. But you shall not so escape your pun- 
ishment.” 

Captain Rymingtowne looked down at him and shrugged. 

“ Come, sir, you need the spur as much as my lord. 
Come, it’s the sword or a whip for you.” 

“You are but a fool, my lad,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne. “ Have with you ! ” 

“Walter!” Gower called to Mr. Mill, who came for- 
ward. “ Who’s your friend, sir ? ” 

“Friend! I ha’ no friends here,” said , the sea captain. 
“What need of friends? There’s room for a bout in the 
courtyard, and the company can see fair.” 

Gower and Mr. Mill looked at each other with amused 
contempt for him. 

“ It’s easy to see the gentleman is something out of his 
vocation,” said Mr. Mill. 

Then Mr. Evesham finished his wine and said : 

“ For God’s sake do not you go about to be witty, Wal- 
ter, or we shall all be in tears. I will stand Captain Rym- 
ingtowne’s friend, if he will so honour me,” and he bowed, 
and Captain Rymingtowne nodded at him. 

There was some amazement. Mr. Evesham carried the 
weight of a man practised in high affairs and the world. 
He had been in Paris with Walsingham and at Madrid with 
Cobham. It is not unkind to suppose that he was willing 
to stand well with a man who stood well with the Queen. 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 335 

But also he must have been a good fellow, and his support 
says something for Captain Rymingtowne’s odd conduct in 
the affair. He was as good a judge as you or I. 

Down to the courtyard they went, and the two stripped 
to their shirts, and the swords were crossed. I suppose 
that Gower had the polish of French masters. Captain 
Rymingtowne, who had fought many a rough fight with 
various weapons, was certainly never a master of sword 
play. In a moment Gower had him through the arm, and 
the seconds struck up the blades. 

I think that suffices, Mr. Mill,” said Evesham, and Mill 
turned to Arthur Gower with a question on his lips. 

But Gower cried out: 

“ This is not to end in a scratch, sir. Stand aside ! 
There is too much between us. One of us must down.” 

“ I resent your conduct, sir. Speak through your 
friend,” said Evesham. You go beyond your right.” 

‘‘ Resent what you will ! ” Gower cried. 

“ We demand another bout, Mr. Evesham,” said Mill. 

Evesham turned to Captain Rymingtowne and spoke 
apart. 

‘‘ You have done enough for honour, sir, and ought not 
to go further with it. All gentlemen will uphold you. I 
shall refuse to let you now pursue the business.” 

“ God bless you, it’s nothing,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne, who was knotting a kerchief round his wound. 
“ Let be. Would I turn my back on a fellow which asked 
more of me? Let be, I say, Mr. Evesham.” 

He took up his sword again and thrust. 

There was some close work, the two almost body to body, 
then Gower sprang back, and as Captain Rymingtowne fol- 
lowed, ran him through. The sea captain thrust again 
blindly, swayed and fell. 

Gower freed his sword and looked down at the bleeding 
man. 

‘‘ You have your lesson, sir,” he said, and turned away. 


336 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Evesham, who was already on his knees and busy about 
the wound, called after him : 

‘‘ The affair is not so ended, Mr. Gower.’' 

“ At your leisure, Mr. Evesham,” said Gower over his 
shoulder, and found himself in the midst of those who had 
watched the fight. 

One said: ‘‘A bad business, Gower,” with a shake of 
the head. Two or three passed him sourly. Another 
clapped Mill on the shoulder and cried : “ You managed it 

damnably, Walter!” and Mill protested peevishly, ‘‘Why, 
what could I do?” 

I believe that till then Gower had no notion of any mat- 
ter for blame in what he had done. He was of the men 
who believe their own rights immense, and no punishment 
too bad for the iniquities of those daring to oppose them. 
Also, he was logical. He always stood by the letter of the 
law. In this matter he had been challenged. It was his 
part to exact what manner of fight he chose. This ap- 
peared so clear to him that he was much irritated against 
those who disapproved. He had a craving after applause 
and the admiration of the world — an unfortunate taste 
for a logical man. 

He told himself that he would ride to Assynton at once 
because it became him, as a lady’s lover and appointed cham- 
pion, to hurry to her side with the tale of how gloriously he 
had avenged her. There may have been also some sus- 
picion in his mind that he had better be first with his version 
of the affair. For he was very sensitive to what people 
said. 

So to Assynton he came and asked for Mary Ryming- 
towne. He was received by her father, who said in a tone 
of cool surprise, for which Gower struggled to find an ade- 
quate answer: 

“You came to see my daughter, Mr. Gower?” And, 
in fact, Gower could find no answer but a bow. “ You may 
trust me with a message,” said Mr. Rymingtowne. 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 337 

“ r am afraid I must ask to speak with her, sir.” 

Mr. Rymingtowne paused long enough to suggest that he 
was impertinent, and said: 

‘‘ Then I am afraid I must bid you good-day, Mr. Gower.” 

Mary came into the hall. 

Gower bowed very low. 

‘‘ I fear that I intrude upon you, madame. I came only 
to tell you that I have done my commission.” 

‘‘ Commission?” Mary cried. 

Gower looked from her to her father, advising as plainly 
as he dared that she should bid the old fellow go. But she 
only repeated: 

“ Commission ? I do not understand.” 

Mr. Gower was annoyed at her dulness. To be sure, 
she ought to have been thinking of him as her knight and 
champion, and consumed with anxiety for his triumph. 
He drew himself up and said magnificently: 

‘‘ My Lord Branscombe will trouble you no more, ma- 
dame. And for your boorish sea captain, I have given 
him his lesson, too.” 

Hot and dusty with hard riding, Mr. Evesham strode 
in. He saw Gower, gave a sharp, contemptuous laugh, 
and then, bowing: 

“ Sir — madame — your pardon. I am perhaps super- 
fluous? Mr. Gower has brought my news?” 

By Mary’s strained face and her eyes he saw that Gower 
had told something. 

“ Mr. Gower informs us,” said Mr. Rymingtowne, “ that 
my Lord Branscombe will trouble us no more, and that he 
has given our sea captain a lesson.” 

Evesham laughed again. 

“ A lesson, I presume, in the ways of a bravo, Mr. 
Gower?” 

‘‘ I shall know how to answer you, sir,” Gower cried. ‘‘ I 
am not afraid of you.” 

Evesham bowed. 


338 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


“ I am glad of it,” and turned from him. “ My Rym- 
ingtowne — madame — I have an errand to you.” 

Mary cried out in dread. 

Let me tell my story, madame,” Gower cried eagerly. 

“ By your leave we shall understand Mr. Evesham bet- 
ter,” said Mr. Rymingtowne. 

“ I think so,” Evesham agreed calmly. “ Captain Rym- 
ingtowne came to the Rose of Whitbury and accused Mr. 
Gower of defaming him behind his back. A quarrel arose 
in which both bore themselves deplorably. My Lord 
Branscombe entered and mocked at them, referring with 
contumely to some lady of their common acquaintance. 
Mr. Gower challenged him. Captain Rymingtowne 
knocked him down. My lord declined to fight either, but 
Captain Rymingtowne so frightened him that I think we 
shall not long be troubled with him. On his flight. Captain 
Rymingtowne confessed that Branscombe and not Mr. 
Gower might be guilty of the offence against him, and of- 
fered to compose the quarrel. Mr. Gower demanded that 
they should fight. Captain Rymingtowne was shortly 
wounded in his sword arm. Against the custom of honour 
Mr. Gower demanded that the fight should go on. He pro- 
ceeded to deal the wounded man a thrust in the right side. 
He then insulted him as he lay on the ground. I am happy 
to advise Mr. Gower that he will find but one opinion among 
gentlemen on his conduct in the affair.” 

‘‘You shall answer me this!” Gower cried passionately. 

“ Gentlemen ! ” Mr. Rymingtowne spoke with sharp de- 
cision. “ You will not deny my right to command you in 
this affair.” Gower stared at him. Evesham bowed. “ I 
insist that it shall go no further, and desire you promise 
me as much.” 

After a moment Evesham said : 

“ I much regret your decision, sir, but cannot question it.” 

“ But I do, by heaven ! ” Gower cried. “ Mr. Evesham, 
you have impugned my honour. I demand a meeting.” 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 339 

As you see,” Evesham shrugged, I am bound to re- 
fuse you.” 

‘‘ Oh, you’ll take refuge behind an old man or a woman’s 
skirts, will you ? I might have guessed it. I — ” 

“ Pray, sir, go and guess what you will to any who will 
listen. It is not I who shall be the worse for it.” 

“ My daughter permits you to take your leave, Mr. 
Gower,” said Mr. Rymingtowne, and drew her arm 
through his. ‘‘Will you follow us, Evesham?” 

Gower flung away with a laugh that he meant to be mor- 
dant. And as he went he heard Mary gasp out: 

“Is he dead? Is he dead indeed, Mr. Evesham?” 

“ I do believe there is no fear of that,” Evesham said. 
“ It’s a shrewd wound, but I think I have seen a worse 
healed.” 

“ Ah ! ” she trembled from head to foot. “ I want to 
go to him, please.” She turned to her father in tears. 
“ Please!” 

“ He lies in my house at Roding,” said Mr. Evesham. 

Captain Rymingtowne, who had not the least ambition of 
dying, woke late in the morning and tried to stretch him- 
self, and found that he was too much bandaged, and swore 
with long fluency. There was a rustle like a summer wind 
in the trees, and he saw looking down at him a white face 
wherein the eyes were sunken and dark and very tender. 

“ Why, what’s the matter ? ‘’ said Captain Rymingtowne. 
“ Here’s woes to be sure 1 And by the look of you you ha’ 
been up all night. Go get you to bed, my girl. You’m 
not consoling with that watchful face.” 

She bit her lip; she collapsed on her knees and hid her 
face on the bed and cried. 

“ Well, now I’ve shipped a sea,” said Captain Ryming- 
towne, and wriggled and brought his left hand over, and 
with a queer limp clumsiness patted her hair. 

An hysterical laugh was confided to the bed-clothes. 


340 


THE SEA CAPTAIN 


Then she looked up deliciously gay through all her weari- 
ness and her woes, and: 

“I da. e you to mock!’’ she said. ‘‘If I have been a 
fool, so have you ! Yes, a fool and a fool and a fool, sir ! ” 

With which she took his head in her arms and covered 
his lips and his eyes with hers. . . . Then she started away 
from him, though he tried to hold her in his left arm and 
grasped after her as she rose. 

“ You have been cruel all your life,” she cried. 

Captain Rymingtowne lay back in the bed. “ Cruel ? 
Maybe there’s some to say so. But not to you, my girl, as 
you do know.” 

“ To. me more than to your enemies,” she said. 

“ That’s a riddle, I swear,” quoth Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ It’s my life to make you understand it. What have 
you asked of me yet but fear? What else have you bid me 
give you ? ” It is likely that Captain Rymingtowne smiled 
a little “ Oh, brave, my lord 1 To prove your strength on 
me and leave me when you knew me afraid. That was 
enough, that contented you, God save your soul.” She 
touched his head with her hand awkwardly. “ I should 
never have forgiven you if you had not brought yourself to 
this pass. I know — I know I was yours before. God 
help me, I have been yours, ah! — how many years, my 
lord? But I hated you for it. Yes, sir; I hated you when 
I wanted you — wanted you, wanted you most. Now 
there you lie, and you have made them talk shame of me 
all the county over, and you have brought yourself to very 
death — and oh, my dear, you are hurt! and” (here she 
began to laugh as she talked) — “ and, indeed, you have 
torn the heart in me and my breast. Yes, you are a des- 
perate silly thing, after all, and I’ll never have you in fear 
again a moment — ” 

“Will you not?” said Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ Nay, not I. You’re only a child, my dear, and maybe 
you’ll break my heart with your folly; but you’re a child. 


RYMINGTOWNE GOES TO SCHOOL 341 


and it’s your right, for Fm a woman, and — and — and so 
good-day to you, my grand sea captain 1 ” 

Come you here,” said Captain Rymingtowne. 

“ Not I, boy,” she laughed, and sped away. 

“ Mary ! ” said Captain Rymingtowne. 

The door shut behind her. 

Captain Rymingtowne lay back on his pillow. 

‘‘ There’s more to this than I knew, by God ! ” he said. 


THE END 




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